


Please Come Home for Christmas

by Huntress79, samwise_baggins, Steve-Bucky-Stucky (Chemical30), Stucky1980



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse of Prescription Medicine, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Detective Sam Wilson, Detective Steve Rogers, Foul Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Police investigation, Prescription Medication, Rape/Non-con Elements, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-02 01:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17878727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79, https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical30/pseuds/Steve-Bucky-Stucky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stucky1980/pseuds/Stucky1980
Summary: When his very punctual brother brother doesn’t come home, Bucky makes a call to the police for help. For detective Steve Rogers, that after midnight phone call quickly becomes more than just another runaway college student report. With one phone call, both lives would change forever.





	1. A Cry for Help

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to our wonderful artist who, once again, illustrated each chapter in beautiful drawings of our boys. Your work gets more gorgeous with each piece of art, Lisa!
> 
> And thank you so much, Sandy for your gorgeous art, attached as a gift to this work. Your art and effort are glorious!

Setting: December 17. 12:01 PM, Brooklyn, NY:

Pacing the small living room apartment, James _‘Bucky’_ Barnes adjusted a throw pillow on the couch in passing. He checked the wall clock then verified the time on his watch. Just after midnight. December seventeenth . . . just after midnight. He paced again, pulling out his phone to check for texts, messages, memes, or anything that might have arrived in the past thirty seconds since he’d last checked. Nothing.

Looking at the clock once more, Bucky shook his head and hit the auto-dial. The phone rang and rang and rang. Normally, Bucky’s younger brother brother would pick up after the second or third ring, but this time, like the last six times, the phone dialed until the automated voice messaging system picked up instead. “Hey,” TJ’s voice chimed in, “looks like I’m busy right now but if this is important, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

With a shaking sigh, Bucky said, “it’s Bucky. TJ, you’re scaring me. Are you hurt? Dead? C’mon, baby brother, call me back!” He hung up and closed his eyes, bowing his head, lifting the phone to rest against his forehead. “Teej, you are fucking scaring me,” he whispered.

Lifting his head, Bucky, hands trembling, dialed the number again, and listened. But the answering service claimed the mailbox was not available and rejected his message. Eyes widening in horror, Bucky carefully dialed his brother’s phone, number by number and got the same result.

Shaking his head, Bucky dialed nine - one - one.

“Nine - one - one, what’s your emergency?” a very kind, female voice answered on the third ring. Her tone came out calm and soothing to the worried, frightened man on the other line.

“My brother is missing. He never came home from school. He’s missed his medicine,” Bucky said, clearing his throat after he finished, sounding worried.

“Okay,” the woman replied, the sound of typing coming through the line, “and, Sir, when is the last time you saw your brother?”

“I saw him just after lunch, about noon, ma’am. He was supposed to come home by eleven. He never called and his messages are full,” Bucky began pacing again.

“Okay, Sir, what is your name and address, please? You said he was on medication, correct?” The operator typed something else on her computer and then paused, waited for Bucky’s reply.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky hurried to give the apartment location, his phone number, and his full name and nickname. He ended with, “his name is Thomas James Barnes and he is nineteen, a sophomore in college. And he’s on regular depression and anxiety medicine after a suicide attempt a couple years ago.”

“Okay, Mr. Barnes, I am sending detectives to your location right now, just stay calm,” the woman replied, her tone never changing from that soothing calm.

“But he’s on regular medicine and he missed it! He never fails to call! He’s late. TJ’s never late!” Bucky’s voice turned desperate, reiterating how desperate the case was. “He’s been so good since he started the medicine, ma’am!”

“I understand, Sir, and we are taking your report very seriously. Detectives Rogers and Wilson are enroute to your location,” she stated, “please, stay calm and take deep breaths. Detectives are on their way.”

Nodding though she couldn’t see it, Bucky said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m all he’s got, you know? Mom and Dad and the kids live in Iowa. We’re the only two who stayed in Brooklyn when everyone moved.”

“No reason to be sorry, Sir,” she answered, her clicking stopping as she finished typing in her notes. “Do you think there might be a chance he could hurt himself or others?”

“If he doesn’t have his medicine regularly, he can fall back into depression or have a panic attack. He’d be more likely to hurt himself, ma’am. He’s a great guy! He just gets overwhelmed. I can’t get ahold of him or his boyfriend, Sean.” Bucky scrubbed at his eyes, angry suddenly at his forming tears.

A few minutes passed by, the operator asking questions to keep Bucky distracted and calm before there was a sudden, sharp knock on the front door of Bucky’s apartment. “That should be the detectives, Sir, they reported being on site at your location.”

Bucky walked over to the door and opened it wide without checking. “Teej?” he asked, despite the fact that his brother would only knock if he couldn’t manage the doorknob.

Out in the hall stood two men dressed in slacks and button down shirts with coats on over their clothes to protect themselves from the winter weather; snow dusted their shoulders. The one in front was a handsome dark-skinned man with serious brown eyes and the other was an incredibly tall blond haired man with striking blue eyes.

Offering a calm partial-smile, the dark-skinned man nodded and displayed his credentials. “I’m Detective Sam Wilson. This is Detective Steve Rogers. Are you James Barnes, please?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “they’re here.” He remained on the phone still.

“Okay, you can hang up now, Sir, they will help you further,” the operator coaxed gently.

“Thanks,” Bucky said and hung up. He held out his phone. “I’ve been trying to call him and his box stopped taking messages, sir.” Pale blue eyes wide with worry and misery, Bucky bit at his lush bottom lip.

Stepping inside after Sam, Steve was the one who took Bucky’s phone and spoke up first, “James Barnes? You called to say your brother, Thomas Barnes, is missing?” Steve looked down at all the outgoing calls, all less than a minute, showing that they most likely hadn’t been picked up.

“TJ,” Bucky backed up to let the detectives into the apartment. “TJ went to his classes just after noon and hasn’t come home. His last class ended at ten thirty last night. He never called and should have been back by eleven.” Bucky didn’t even ask for his phone back, looking worried and anxious. He clutched his hands together.

“And you don’t think it’s possible he went to a party with a friend or significant other, maybe?” Steve asked, handing back the device to its owner. An nineteen year old college student being late on curfew on a Friday night wasn’t so unheard of, after all. 

“TJ never parties,” Bucky said with certainty. “His boyfriend, Sean, isn’t answering either but his phone isn’t filling and bouncing messages back.

Pulling out a small notepad and pen, Steve nodded and asked, “and what’s the boyfriend’s full name, please? Has TJ been seeing him for a while?”

“Sean Reeves,” Bucky said promptly. “I don’t know if he has a middle name. He studies political science at the university. He’s been dating TJ since about a week into the freshman year, but TJ seemed to be a bit . . . less happy recently?” Bucky sighed and sank to the edge of the couch then bounced up at the sound of a car pulling slowly up in front of the house. He looked hopeful but the car pulled off at speed and Bucky’s face fell.

Glancing up at Bucky, blue eyes meeting Bucky’s intently, Steve turned his head to watch the car slow down and then sped away before looking back at Bucky. “They were having troubles? Did TJ tell you what they were about?” Steve held his pen poised to write.

“He said he felt like he wasn’t appreciated or respected, like Sean and his friends might be using him for his social security money. TJ gets social security since he suffered a minor brain injury when he tried to suicide. The carbon monoxide poisoned him.” Bucky ran a hand through his wavy nut-brown hair.

Blinking, Steve didn’t say anything for a few moments before he finally shook himself, “your brother tried to commit suicide? When?”

“Senior year of high school,” Bucky answered promptly. “He was a typical teen. Drinking a bit, smoking dope a bit, but not enough our parents caught on. Then he realized he was going to flunk if he didn’t straighten out, so he tried to get clean. His boyfriend, Ken, broke up with him for Christmas, and TJ drank a bottle of wine then locked himself in the garage in the running car. I found him and he was almost dead.” He met Steve’s eyes, looking miserable but willing to tell anything just to help find his baby brother, younger by seven minutes.

Sighing, Steve nodded and wrote something else down before he asked, “and . . . do you think TJ might have runaway? The semester ended today, didn’t it? Were his grades okay?”

Nodding, Bucky hurried over to his brother’s laptop, for which TJ had willingly given him the password. TJ had Bucky’s password, too. It was a trust thing with them. Opening the laptop and pulling up TJ’s college information with his professors, Bucky turned the laptop to the detective. “There, his transcripts and notes from the professors. He’s in composition classes, did all his general in freshman year and now concentrating on music.

Walking over and leaning in closer to get a better look at the screen, Steve said out loud so Sam could hear, “nothing below a _‘B,'_ so he’s doing good in school.” Looking at Bucky, Steve asked, “you said he missed his evening doses of medication? What is he on?”

Bucky immediately headed into the kitchen and pulled down the medication bottles from a locked cabinet. He handed them over. “He stopped keeping them in his bag or at school because he says he keeps losing them.” Bucky handed over the depression meds and the anxiety meds. It was obvious that without those meds, very soon TJ could become very unstable.

Frowning, Steve looked over the bottles in his hands and then jotted down all the names in his notepad before handing the bottles over to Sam. Looking back at Bucky, Steve asked, “losing them? How so? Was it entire bottles missing or just a few pills here and there?”

“Unfortunately, TJ never clarified and I never pressed. His boyfriend, Sean, probably knows,” Bucky sighed.

“Do you mind if we look around TJ’s room?” Steve asked, knowing if TJ planned on running away there might be evidence there, such as missing clothes and other everyday items - - or sometimes they found confirmation pages for plane or bus tickets; they might even find a letter from TJ explaining why he might have run away.

Nodding, Bucky said, “please? I’m not sure what might be there, but anything to help find him. “ Bucky whirled around and led the two men, Sam had been silently letting Steve handle the case, to the bedroom. “This room. He has a key but never locks the room, even if he’s . . . uh . . . taking care of himself, you know?” Bucky flushed. “He promised to never lock it in case he has an emergency.

Steve nodded and pulled out a pair of gloves, putting them on before entering the bedroom. The small room wasn’t much bigger than a large closet, just enough to fit in a brother bed, a small desk, and shelves which were stuffed full of different books on music theory and others on composition. The room, despite being small, was kept very clean, the bed made and any papers on the desk were stacked in a neat pile. On the desk, there was a picture of Bucky and who Steve could only assume was TJ. TJ had short brown hair, kept just long enough to curl wildly, wide pale blue eyes, and a leaner body than his older brother’s. “Is this TJ?” Steve picked up the photograph and pointed to the younger looking of the two men. 

  
  


“Yes, but I have a recent picture I took one at Thanksgiving,” Bucky hurried to root through his phone then turned it to show a gorgeous shot of a younger looking version of Bucky himself. The teen had wider eyes and curlier hair, and a very pretty smile.

“We’ll need a copy of that picture,” Steve stated, putting the frame back down on the desk carefully.

Bucky handed over the phone. “Take whatever. Texts, photos, emails. Anything, phone numbers, contacts. Anything!” Bucky said, sounding a bit desperate.

“James,” Steve looked down at the phone in his hands, the very pretty teenager on the screen smiling at him. He looked back up at Bucky and let out a breath, “is there anyone that might want to hurt TJ? Or maybe even you?”

Looking confused, Bucky turned to the large blond detective. “Hurt TJ? My God, I hope not! You think he’s been hurt by someone?” Bucky hugged himself and began pacing again. “I thought maybe he had an accident or, God forbid, was mugged . . . but you think someone _purposely_ targeted TJ?”

“These are just routine questions, James,” Steve tried to reassure Bucky, “but, you said TJ felt like his boyfriend and boyfriend’s friends might be using him for money? His social security? What day of the month does his social security hit? And does TJ have any credit cards? We’ll be able to monitor them if he does, see when and where he uses them, if he does.”

Running a hand over his face, Bucky tried to organize his thoughts. He went into TJ’s room and sorted through his desk. “He keeps a record of his bank stuff and he keeps his credit card bills in here,” the worried brother explained. Pulling out a composition notebook and a stack of bills, all but the top few marked ‘ _paid_ ’ on the envelope, Bucky turned and offered the account stuff to the detectives. Detective Wilson took them with a steady thanks.

Steve looked around the room and noted the few pictures that TJ had set up, none of which had his boyfriend in them: all were either Bucky and TJ or what Steve could assume was the other family members who’d moved to the Midwest. Looking back at Bucky, Steve asked, “you said he did drugs and drank in high school? Does he still do recreational drugs and go out drinking?”

“Never,” Bucky insisted, shaking his head vehemently. “He’s been clean for two years and three months. He’s so proud of his sobriety. See?” Bucky instantly hurried over to the bureau and pointed out rewards Bucky had made for his brother, each and every month of sobriety. Each one newer than the last. “He goes to meetings every Tuesday and Thursday. And counseling on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He sees his doctor every Friday, too.”

The rather quiet, supervising detective checked over the papers in his hands. He noted that the credit card statements had large amounts of money for clubs, both almost nightly alcohol bills or, in one case, to settle a broken stool cost. Sam frowned and asked, “if he’s sober, why’s he got such huge bar tabs?”

Steve blinked, looking over at Sam from where he’d been looking at TJ’s shelf. He straightened back out and turned fully to look at Sam and then at Bucky.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “he goes with his boyfriend and Sean’s friends. TJ said he’s noticed he’s always paying the tab and wanted to stop. It was one of his complaints.”

“Was he supposed to go out tonight, James?” Steve asked, his blue eyes sympathetic.

“No,” Bucky shook his head again, “he was coming straight home after class. That’s what he said at lunch, sir.” Bucky turned pleading eyes on Steve.

“Okay,” Steve sighed and nodded, glancing at Sam again and then at Bucky, “are there any places he might go? Let’s say he’s stressed out and wanted air. Where might he go?” Steve hoped that all they were dealing with was a kid who was stressed out with school and his awful sounding love life so went somewhere to clear his head. However, Steve had a bad feeling in his gut. Nothing in the room suggested that TJ might have runaway.

“Uh . . . maybe, if it was bad enough, his best friend’s place? But he’d have called! TJ never goes anywhere without calling, sir,” Bucky felt like he was going in circles. Frustration began to well up as he seemed to answer the same things over and over. “He needs his medicine.”

“James, you need to try and stay calm. These are all routine questions we _have_ to ask,” Steve reassured Bucky, seeing the frustration on his features. “Your brother is considered very high risk with his mental illnesses, we are taking his disappearance very seriously, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky nodded and blew out a long breath. He took a breath and said, “okay, his best friend is Shuri. She doesn’t have a last name.”

“You don’t know her last name?” Sam asked.

“No, she doesn't _have_ a last name. She’s from Wakanda, a country in Africa. Her brother is the ruler of the country and Shuri is here studying bioengineering.” Bucky looked around then located TJ’s address book, though everyone in there was listed by either a first name or nickname, or were doctors or counselors or professors.

“Your brother is very neat,” Steve commented, surprised at how well organized the nineteen year old kept his room. Most boys TJ’s age definitely didn’t keep an _address book_.

“He keeps track of his appointments and stuff, so started writing everyone down he needed a phone number for. Part of his brain damage causes some memory issues. The book, lists, and stuff are ways to keep his life in order so he can be relatively independent,” Bucky said, beginning to pace again. His eyes fell on something on the bed and he let out a cry of triumph.

Making a dive for the bed, Bucky snatched up a battered stuffed wolf. “He wouldn’t have runaway without bringing Luna! Nana gave it to him! He _never_ goes anywhere without Luna. It’s the only thing he has left of Nana!”

Steve glanced over at Sam and then over at Bucky with a soft, worried frown. “You said he was . . . how old?” Steve glanced down at his notepad again, flipping through the pages. He didn’t seem to believe the idea that a nineteen year old boy would bring a stuffed animal with him everywhere.

“Nineteen,” Bucky answered instantly. “It’s weird, I guess, to you guys, but it’s true. I _told_ you, TJ has a brain injury from his suicide attempt. The carbon monoxide poisoning . . . you can ask his doctor, his therapist! I’m not lying. He’s a brilliant kid, but he’s not capable of ever living on his own because he needs permanent guidance . . . but he’ll be able to hold down a job with guidance.” Bucky shook his head and sank to the bed, putting his head in his hands, the stuffed wolf in his lap. “You think I’m crazy and TJ needs help.”

Sighing, Steve looked at Bucky and said, “we’re going to do our best to find him and bring him home safely to you, James. I’m gonna go through a series of questions about TJ, okay? And remember, these are all standard questions we ask anyone who calls in a missing relative.”

“Bucky,” the distraught brunet said, lifting his head and hugging the wolf, smelling his brother's scent. “He’s not totally mentally incompetent. But it’s like he can’t always count on making the mature decision you know? Just _guidance_. And he gets nightmares without Luna.”

“Nightmares? What does he get nightmares about?” Steve asked, flipping to a new page on his notepad and getting ready to write down Bucky’s answers.

Jumping on that, Bucky seemed relieved they believed him enough to take it serious and write it down. “He dreams about being trapped in the car, as if he wasn’t the one who locked the door, you know? Or he dreams me or one of the others, Becca or George, are trapped in the car. And he dreams he’s all alone and can’t find his way out of wherever he is, like woods or an abandoned building or something. He wakes up screaming for whoever he dreamed was hurt or for me, if he’s the one in the car or alone. In order to help him get beyond the nightmares, I pulled out Luna. She’s been put away once Teej got to about eleven. But about five months after he came back from the hospital, I hit upon pulling Luna out for him. Momma agreed so we tried that and it worked. He still gets bad nightmares, but not every night, not as bad. Now he never goes anywhere without her.” Bucky didn’t care if he seemed to be babbling; he couldn’t help it.

Nodding, Steve wrote some things down and then asked, “Bucky, there was a question you didn’t answer for me earlier. You said no one would want to hurt TJ . . . but would someone want to hurt you? Maybe use TJ to do that?”

“You mean, like hold him for ransom or something?” Bucky’s pale eyes widened. He drew a shaky breath, running a very trembly hand through his long locks. “This might be because someone wants to hurt me, so they’re hurting TJ?” Bucky shook his head and said, “I don’t know who’d want to do that. I’m just a car mechanic. I mean, I got people who don’t like me, everyone does, but none that I’d think would be so damn demented they’d hurt a person to get at me!”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, jotting something down, and then he looked back over at Bucky, “and, you said TJ is clean, so drugs wouldn’t be a factor. We will look more into his financials and talk with his boyfriend. Is there anything else that might be a reason as to why TJ would disappear?”

“I remember the way he was when he was stoned or drunk or even using,” Bucky said. “I didn’t see any of that behavior starting again. He comes home every night and eats a late dinner, like soup and a half sandwich, before bed. If he has other plans, he tells me, like if he’s going out with Sean. And Sean would come over regularly, too. He seems like a nice guy, real understanding of TJ’s limits. TJ said Sean was asking recently if TJ wanted sex, and TJ would refuse. He wants to wait until after college.”

“So, TJ hasn’t had sex with anyone?” Steve questioned.

“Not since the attempt, though he’s not a virgin. And he’s homosexual. He said he didn’t really enjoy sex with girls.” Bucky stood and started pacing yet again, the toy in his arms. “Sean told him it was romantic and not a problem.”

“We definitely need to talk with Sean,” Steve commented, mostly to himself and then he looked at Bucky again, studying the handsome man’s features, “And, how long has it been since your parents and other siblings have been in town?”

“They came up for the weekend for TJ and I’s birthday. We was born March tenth. And they plan to come up for Christmas. They’re supposed to arrive on the twenty-third and stay until the twenty-seventh. They visit twice a year to stay in touch with TJ and me. Momma keeps hinting he should move out there with them, but TJ tells them he’s happy staying here. We’re Brooklyn boys, born and bred.”

Letting out a very small laugh, Steve nodded and said, as he wrote, “me too, ain’t anywhere in the world like Brooklyn, huh?” He paused a moment and then asked, “so, TJ has a good relationship with your parents? With his siblings?”

Nodding, Bucky let out a breath and said, “before his attempt, he was supposed to move with them. After the attempt, he started fearing planes and cars. He can go in cars fine now, but for a few months, he had severe panic attacks in any vehicle or in the garage. The therapist was surprised, said he acted like he’d been locked in without knowing. But TJ insisted he did it himself. He was drunk. I jumped in an offered to stay at the apartment until graduation, then extended the offer for college, at first Momma and Dad helped pay the bills. Just last birthday, we talked about him being able to stay after college, too, if he wanted. He was looking forward to Christmas. He’s writing a song for Momma for her present.”

The next few hours were filled with Steve asking Bucky questions about TJ, all the standard questions like how tall TJ was, how much did he weigh, pretty much anything there was to be know about the missing teen. By four o’clock in the morning, TJ still hadn’t returned home and Steve and Sam were standing outside of Bucky’s apartment in the hall.

“Try and get some rest, Bucky, we’ll call you if we find out anything, okay? Same goes for you, though, too. If you hear from TJ or anything about his whereabouts, you let us know, okay?” Steve pulled out his card and handed it over to Bucky.

Bucky studied the card blankly, exhausted and beginning to go numb. He nodded then looked up at Steve and Sam. “Sean has a part time waiter job at the campus restaurant. Works the morning shift sometimes? Not sure if he’s scheduled for today or not, TJ would have known.” Suddenly, Bucky hugged himself, hugging the toy close, eyes blurring. He blinked away the tears he wanted to cry. “He’s a good kid. Messed up in the past, but who hasn’t?”

Letting out a breath, Steve hesitated for only a moment before reaching out to place a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to bring him home, okay?”

Nodding, Bucky focused on Steve’s eyes and said, “thanks, sir. Thank you both for coming. I’ll call if I remember anything or notice anything. WIll you have someone go to the subway station he uses? Maybe I can ask around and see if people saw him? Help, you know?”

“We’ll check out the subway station, you need to try and get some sleep, okay?” Steve let his hands drop away and offered a very small smile. “Let us do the police work?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “okay. Sleep. Yeah, that’s happening.” He sighed and glanced behind him at the empty apartment. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t hesitate to call,” Steve offered one more smile before turning with Sam and walking down the hall. Once far enough away, Steve leaned in closer to ask his senior partner, “so, what do you think?”

“I think the brother did it,” Sam said, very softly. “I think he did something to the brother and is faking. But, we gotta check all the leads. Through past experience, the kid’s either a run away from a very over-protective brother, or he’s a victim of the brother, though.” Sam looked grim.

Looking surprised, Steve turned his head to glance at the apartment building as they walked into the bitter early morning air. “You really think . . . you think Bucky hurt TJ?”

Sighing, Sam looked directly at Steve. “You know that the majority of domestic crimes, those closest to the victim have something to do with it. But, it’s also possible the guy took off on his own or with his boyfriend or something, sick of being treated like some preteen.”

“You don’t like Bucky, do you?” Steve questioned.

Blinking, Sam turned a stunned look on his junior partner and barked a laugh. “I don’t _know_ him. I don’t like or dislike him. I reserve my emotions so I can solve the crime, Steve. That’s what keeps us sane. Work the case, but leave your emotions out of it. It’ll tear you apart otherwise.

Letting out a sigh, Steve nodded and slipped into the passenger seat of the cruiser. Sam secured the evidence: the financial records, composition notebook, Bucky’s cellphone, in the trunk, properly logged and stores in evidence containers.

Sam slid behind the steering wheel and buckled in with a deep sigh. “Look, if you want my private, deep gut instinct on this? The boyfriend or one of the party friends got pissed and threatened the kid, who didn’t run home for some reasons. He’s hiding and needs help and is too confused to go home or to us. We need to call his Momma, check with his doctor and therapist, teachers . . . he’s probably terrified. Better?”

“You saw all those medications, that kid is going to be in rough shape without those medications,” Steve nodded and looked over at Sam, “I know that diner at the school opens up at four-thirty, care to question a boyfriend?”

“Care to put in a trace for the kid’s phone?” Sam countered. “Go to where his class was, see if he even went to classes? Follow his day to see if someone knows where he is? Could be he forgot to call home or his brother forgot he had plans. Maybe the phone battery died and the kid can’t answer it until charging.”

“Okay, so, trace the phone first, before the boyfriend?” Steve asked. 

Sam rolled his eyes, “maybe take the rookie off this case?” He gave his new partner a challenging look.

“Why?” Steve frowned softly.

“You’re letting this Bucky get to you. You’re falling out of procedure. Look, pull out your notes, and pull out your procedure manual. Make notes what steps you need to take.” Sam shook his head. “You can’t let a worried relative get to you, shake you off your game, Steve. You’ll fail in Special Crimes if you do.” Sam drove them to the campus. “We’ll go to the boyfriend first, because the guy has the best chance of maybe having seen the missing guy. If that goes nowhere, we follow his footsteps. Got it?”

“His name is TJ, Sam,” Steve said softly, pulling out his notes.

“TJ Barnes,” Sam agreed.

“You keep calling him guy or kid. He has a name,” Steve murmured, keeping his eyes on the notes he’d taken as he had talked with Bucky.

Sam looked at Steve. “I’m trying not to get attached, Steve. Helps me keep focused. I don’t care about this case or TJ any less. I’m trying to stay focused so we can find him as quick as possible.”

Letting out a breath, Steve nodded and said, “sorry . . . it’s just . . .” he looked at the image he’d taken of TJ from Bucky.

“It would have been just as hard a first case if we got a call to check out a body and had to piece together his life, meet his friends and relatives. Let’s get this TJ found before he becomes a body, yeah?” Sam reached over to his partner and squeezed his shoulder then put his hand on the wheel and drove them towards the campus the victim attended school on. “We know he’s not a total mental invalid, since he got accepted to a prestigious college and met the grade reqs last year and this semester. So he’s dependent, but not incapable, right?”

“Right, Bucky made it sound like he had a hard time making decisions on his own?” Steve looked up from his notepad to look at Sam once more.

“Exactly what I took from that,” Sam nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “TJ is intelligent and creative, but has anxiety and depression. He gets nightmares and anxiety attacks. Sounds like that’s why he sleeps with a toy and always checks in. That should help us, actually. Means he’d be telling other people what his plans are, too.” Sam pulled into a parking spot close to the campus restaurant.” So, he can’t live by himself because life is overwhelming? Maybe because he’s afraid of slipping back to his bad habits? And Bucky seems to thrive on caring for the ki . . . TJ. Bucky seem overprotective or overbearing to you?”

“To any normal nineteen year old? Yeah, Bucky would be overbearing but . . . from what we’ve heard about TJ? If Bucky is telling the truth . . . it sounds like he might need overbearing,” Steve replied, ducking his head to look out the window at the mostly empty restaurant.

“So, I’ll take the boyfriend, okay? You interview others and see if anyone knows TJ. Ask about his personality, his interests, his brother and boyfriend. See if he mentioned his personal views to them. I’ve had relatives lie about relationships before, so we have to check into that, too.” Turning to Steve, Sam said, “like it or not, Steve, Bucky’s top of the suspect list due to his relationship. We need to rule him out, too.”

“I know, I know,” Steve let out a breath, though he really didn’t believe Bucky had anything to do with TJ’s disappearance. “Sure you don’t want me to watch how a master gets it done?” 

Studying Steve, Sam asks, “honestly? Do you think you need to? It’s just like when you were beat, Steve.”

“Alright, so I question the others, you got the boyfriend,” Steve nodded and slipped out of the cruiser. 

“Maybe you should stick by my side. I’ll ask the questions, you keep an eye on his body language and stuff. You’ve been given this promotion because of your uncanny ability to read others. You might see something this old dog misses.” Sam offered a grim smile. He stepped from the car and stretched.

Steve waited for Sam to get out before walking with the older man to the front entrance of the diner. A little bell chimed their arrival and a handsome boy with blond hair and blue eyes greeted them with a boy-next-door smile. “Good morning, feel free to sit wherever you guys want. I’ll be right over.”

“Actually, we’re looking for someone who we hear works here?” Sam showed his credentials. “We need to speak to Sean Reeves, please.”

Blinking in surprise, the young man said, “I’m Sean. What can I do for you guys?” He looked from Sam to Steve back to Sam.

“I’m Detective Wilson and this is Detective Rogers. Can we speak somewhere, please, Mr. Reeves?” Sam offered a friendly smile, though something about him seemed serious and in control.

“Uh, yeah, sure . . .” Sean smoothed down his apron and looked around the empty diner before gesturing to a booth in the back corner, “we can sit down over there?”

“Thank you, Mr. Reeves,” Sam responded. He guided Steve and Sean voer to the booth and slid into the wall, allowing Steve to join him so they could sit across from Sean. Once everyone sat, Sam said, “thank you, Mr. Reeves.”

Nodding once, Sean looked between the two detectives again before settling on Sam, “so, what is this all about? I paid that parking ticket from a few months back . . .”

Nodding, Sam said, “oh, this isn’t about a ticket, Mr. Reeves, just a welfare check. Do you know a man named Thomas Barnes?” He kept his voice light, as if there was nothing serious going on.

“TJ? Yeah, sure. Teej is my boyfriend. What’s wrong? Did something happen to him?” Sean’s blue eyes flashed with worry, looking genuinely scared for TJ’s well being.

Shaking his head, Sam said, “that hasn’t been determined. Most likely he’s fine. We just need to know when you saw your boyfriend last?”

Looking thoughtful, Sean replied, “around seven-thirty last night? Right before his last class of the day . . . composition studies of film, I think . . .” Sean frowned softly and asked, “seriously . . . where’s TJ? Is he at a hospital? I need to go see him!”

“Calm down, Mr. Reeves. Trust me, if he was in a hospital or, god forbid, morgue, we’d not be doing this interview in a restaurant. How did he seem last night? HIs mood? His plans, maybe?” Sam sounded relaxed.

“Fine, he was fine. Talking about seeing some movie with Bucky today, ya know, enjoy the end of the semester and all that? He was going to go to class and go straight home. Me and my buddy wanted to hit up some clubs but Teej wasn’t feeling up to it,” Sean shrugged his shoulders.

Nodding, Sam asked, “did he seem anxious or depressed? He’s on medicine for both, correct?”

“Yeah, some heavy shit, too. I remember the day he first took these new medications, he was all loopy and weird,” Sean answered with a sigh. Steve looked at Sam and then back at Sean, Bucky hadn’t said anything about TJ being on new medication.

“Yeah, switching meds to stabilize can be a hard process. Even for the concerned family and friends watching him go through that. Last night, was he loopy? Weird? Depressed or anxious, maybe?” Sam pressed, but gently, almost casually.

“Nah, he was fine, really. He didn’t seem anxious or depressed and TJ isn’t that great at hiding when he is,” Sean commented with a sigh, running his hand through his hair.

“His brother,” Sam watched Sean attentively, “was worried and called the police to say his brother never came home after last night’s final class. You sure TJ didn’t mention going to another friend’s house maybe?”

Eyes widening in shock, Sean shook his head, “no. He said he was going straight home! Teej didn’t make it home last night? Oh my God . . . you gotta know, that’s not like him . . . like at all.”

Nodding, Sam soothed calmly, “lots of things can happen, all innocent, Mr. Reeves. We’re checking alla venues, I assure you. And TJ is a priority in our searches since he’s on medication. Does he have other friends he’s known to hang out with? Maybe one of them saw or heard something?”

“He’s friends with Shuri and Doug Hammond?” Sean offered, looking worried.

“So, Shuri and Doug Hammond. Are they a couple? Siblings?” Sam asked, pulling out his notebook.

“No, Shuri doesn’t have a last name, some weird thing about the country she came from. Doug’s a political science major, like me. Look,” Sean leaned forward and lowered his voice, “I know I’m not supposed to say anything, but you guys should look into TJ’s Narcotics Anonymous meetings. There’s this one guy . . . he’s always flirting with TJ and being pushy after meetings . . . TJ told me.”

“Thank you,” Sam offered a smile. “Did TJ ever mention this guy’s name?”

“Narcotics Anonymous, Detective . . .” Sean pointed out.

“And they go by first names in those meetings, Mr. Reeves,” Sam continued to smile.

Nodding, Sean replied, “all I know is the guy goes by Frank. Probably a fake name, ya know?”

“We’ll definitely check it out. Mr. Reeves,” Sam titled his head, “is TJ happy at home or does he talk about leaving? Talk about his brother’s rules?”

“I don’t know how he’s happy at home but he never complains about Bucky,” Sean rolled his eyes and sat back in the booth a bit. “I asked if he would want to marry me one day, and you know what TJ said? He said he’d only marry me if Bucky could move in with us? How weird is that?”

Leaning closer, Sam asked, “Mr. Reeves, this is going to sound odd, but please bear with me? Do you think Bucky could have an unusual relationship with his brother? Exert an undue control over him in some way?”

“Bucky is a control freak, especially when it comes to TJ. They sit down every single Sunday and plan out TJ’s entire week. It’s like I gotta put in a damn request jus’ to see my boyfriend,” Sean shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So, Bucky keeps TJ to a tight schedule? What about friends or perhaps outings? Finances?” Sam prompted, as if he began to worry about Bucky as a subject of interest.

“Well, ya see, TJ at least has most of the control over his money, but Bucky had TJ scheduled for four classes this semester, on top of the bazillion counseling appointments and doctor appointments. TJ is fine. Honestly, sometimes I think Bucky likes TJ to be sick . . . like that one disease,” Sean snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name.

“So, TJ has a private income? Where does it come from? Work?” Sam asked, leaning forward a bit, sounding intrigued.

“Nah, man, TJ doesn’t work. He gets social security ‘cause I guess his brain got a bit mixed up or something?” Sean shook his head and let out a sigh.

“So, he’s sick enough to get disability checks, but not as sick as his brother makes him out to be? Could his brother have faked TJ’s original illness? Maybe defrauding the government about TJ’s disability?” Sam seemed content to follow the anti-Bucky lead Sean provided so willingly.

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Sean grumbled softly, “but, TJ never would say a bad word about Bucky. He thought the sun rose and fell on his brother’s ass or something.”

Nodding, Sam said, “what do you think may have happened to TJ, Mr. Reeves?”

“He probably just went to blow off some steam,” Sean answered honestly, “but . . . if he still isn’t home? I bet you Bucky did something to him.”

“Why do you think that, Mr. Reeves? Does Bucky give you a reason to believe he might hurt his brother?” Sam sounded interested, pen ready to add to his continual notes.

“He’s a control freak! TJ had been talking to me about moving into the dorms or something, spread his wings, ya know? He probably told Bucky and Bucky hurt him,” Sean suggested.

“And Bucky has a volatile temper?” Sam wrote furiously.

“Don’t know about that . . . never heard of Bucky having a temper, but he is insanely protective of TJ and if TJ said he was moving out? Wouldn’t put it past Bucky to hurt TJ to keep him there,” Sean fiddled with the salt shaker, spinning it carefully on the table.

“What kind of work does Bucky do?” Sam asked, as if they hadn’t already interviewed the older brother.

“He’s a mechanic for that shop down on ninth?” Sean answered, seeming to relax the more he talked with Sam.

“Thank you, we’ll go talk to them.” Sam began to close his notebook. “Oh, Mr. Reeves, do you know how TJ gets to and from school?” He offered Sean a smile.

Nodding, Sean answered, “he takes the subway. At night he would take the B train that would drop him off about a couple blocks from his apartment.”

“Does his brother ever drop him off or pick him up? For school, social events, shopping maybe?” Sam kept a friendly smile on his face, eyes respectful and attentive, sensing the continuing relaxation of the man he questioned as well as an undercurrent of enjoyment in being the center of attention.

“Sure, sometimes,” Sean answered with another shrug of his shoulders. “But, for the most part, TJ always took the subway because Bucky worked at the garage.”

Sam nodded and wrote down the information. “Mr. Reeves, did TJ do any recreational substances? Maybe to relax or with his friends?”

Snorting softly, Sean shook his head and said, “and disappoint Bucky? Hell no. TJ doesn’t even drink alcohol. Whenever we go out, he always just orders a soda. Sometimes I think a drink or something might help him let loose, ya know?”

Nodding, Sam turned the page in his notebook and met Sean’s eyes, “and does he resent his medicines? His disabilities?”

“Sure, I mean, who wouldn’t? TJ, on his bad days, would forget to put on his own shoes,” Sean let out a breath again and shook his head, spinning the salt shaker again, “he hated that he had to rely on medicine to feel somewhat normal.”

Nodding, Sam asked, “and did he ever refuse to take his meds, maybe without telling his brother?”

“Nah, TJ always took his meds on time. God forbid he even be ten minutes late. He was kinda neurotic about it if you ask me,” Sean said, his blue eyes looking from Sam to Steve. Looking back at Sam, Sean added, “he never missed his doses and he had a schedule with the pharmacy to make sure he never run out.”

“So, he never forgot doses . . . ever drop any or lose any?” Sam looked up.

Frowning softly, Sean shook his head, “not that I know of?”

Nodding, Sam said, “and if he did, would Bucky get upset? Medicine can be quite expensive.”

“Maybe? Look, TJ kept track of all his meds, I don’t think he’d lose any. Bucky keeps them locked in a cabinet at their house?” Sean answered, “he has a reminder on his phone.”

Nodding, Sam sighed, “do you know of anyone who might want to harm TJ, Mr. Reeves?”

“No, everyone loved TJ,” Sean sighed, frowning in worry, “do you think . . . do you think he hurt himself?”

“We’re not sure if he’s even hurt, Mr. Reeves. So far, he hasn’t returned home yet. But he could have spent time with a friend. These are just standard preliminary questions, just in case. Do you know if anyone would hurt TJ to get to you or his brother?”

“Get to me? No, no way, I don’t have any enemies or anything like that,” Sean frowned and shook his head, “and, I don’t think Bucky does either?”

“Do you know how his grades are? His relationship with his professors or fellow students? How is TJ doing in school?” Sam offered a reassuring smile.

“TJ was doing good in school, he gets along fine with his teachers,” Sean rubbed at his eyes, “I’m sorry, but TJ was just a normal kid, ya know? Well, aside from the depression and anxiety.” He slid out of the booth and said, “I have to get back to work . . . do you have any other questions?”

Sam stood and offered his business card. “No, but if you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to contact us.” He watched Sean for a moment, “and we might need to follow up if we think of anything, so please don’t leave the area any time soon?” Sam smiled at Sean in a friendly manner, the slight gap between his top front teeth revealed.

“But . . . I’m leaving to see my family in Ohio on the twenty-third, you don’t think it’ll take longer than that, do you?” Sean asked, worrying at his bottom lip.

“If you could provide my associate with your family home and travel plans, that would help, but we’re hoping to find TJ before that day.” Sam put away his notebook.

Steve and Sean exchanged information before he Steve followed Sam out to their car. “He was talking about TJ in the past tense, Sam,” was the first thing Steve said as he shut the car door.

“I noticed. Got the feeling he doesn’t much like Bucky, either. Seems to want to convince us Bucky uses a very heavy hand with TJ. We need more input on both men. We should talk to the best friend, but while we’re here, we should go check the last place he was and follow his trail to the subway.” Sam looked at Steve. “Never missed a dose? Never drops or loses anything?”

Shaking his head, Steve frowned and looked down at his notepad, “TJ seems like a responsible kid, Sam. I really don’t think he ran away. He - -” Steve’s phone beeped, drawing a frown to his features as he pulled it out. His eyes widened and he said, “while you were talking with Sean, I had the lab trace TJ’s cell.” He turned the phone to display an address, “we got a hit?”

Nodding, Sam said, “get some of our beat on the trail and we’ll go check the phone. Just in case. Snow’s due and don’t wanna lose evidence while chasing the phone.” He began driving, letting Steve give him the coordinates then call in for help.


	2. Bucky Gets Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Referenced Rape, foul language, shaming, and abuse**

Setting: December 18. 9:15 AM, Brooklyn, NY

As Sam eased to a stop right in front of a brownstone only a few blocks away from the college campus, Steve frowned when he saw someone already on the doorstep, talking to a young woman with reddish brown hair.

“Sam . . . does that look like Bucky to you?” Steve was already unbuckling his belt.

With a frown and a sigh, Sam nodded. “Sure does. Why’s he here? This a friend of his or TJ’s?” He stood and got out of the car, murmuring, “you got this one, Steve.”

Nodding, Steve shut the door behind him and strode up the frozen walkway to the front door, hearing Bucky arguing with the young woman. “Bucky?” Steve called, a frown on his features.

Whirling around, looking like he had gotten no sleep since he’d talked to the detectives hours ago, Bucky even wore the same clothes, the worried brother nodded. “Hello, detectives. I traced Teej’s phone, but she won’t let me see him.”

“There is no one named TJ here!” the young woman insisted, glaring at Bucky. “He won’t leave.” Her tone held a very thick European accent.

Pulling out his credentials and holding them out and steady for the woman to read, Steve said, “I’m Detective Steve Rogers with Brooklyn Special Crimes and this,” he gestured behind him to Sam, “is Detective Sam Wilson. Ma’am, we traced a cell phone signal of a reported missing person to this location. Please, might we come inside and take a look?”

The woman frowned softly, looking at Steve’s credentials and then looked over at Bucky, who looked very cold, rumpled, and wet. Sighing, she nodded and stepped back, allowing all three men into the warm home. “I do not know why someone named TJ’s phone would be here? It’s just me and my brother that live here . . .”

“And, what is yours and your brother’s names, please?” Steve asked, glancing at Bucky and then back at the young, very pretty woman.

“I’m Wanda Maximoff and my brother is Pietro . . . I can assure you that no one is here . . .” Wanda looked between all three newcomers and crossed her arms over her chest. She still wore her pajamas, a pair of maroon sweats and a black t-shirt, her hair thrown up in a messy bun.

“Ms. Maximoff, we believe you,” Sam smiled reassuringly, signaling Steve to deal with Bucky instead. He guided the woman into the livingroom and said, “perhaps you or your brother borrowed a friend’s phone? Found one?” They left Bucky and Steve alone in the hall.

“Bucky,” Steve turned to look at the young man, “what are you doing here? I told you to get some rest,” he pulled off his own thick, wool coat and instinctively put the coat over the shivering, wet brunet.

  
  


“I can’t sleep. I went to the campus and followed the path he takes to the subway. Then my GPS app found his phone so I came here,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, sounding frustrated.

“Bucky, you have to let us do our jobs. I know it’s hard,” Steve sighed and let his eyes trail down Bucky’s rumpled form. “What if TJ goes home and you aren’t there? Or calls the house and you aren’t there?” Steve tried a different approach with the protective brother.

Rubbing his face, the scruff that had begun to grow, Bucky nodded. “Okay, yeah. I’ll go check. But his phone is here and he never mentioned either a Wanda or Pietro as friends, sir.”

A young man, about seventeen or so, with silvered hair and intense dark eyes walked down the steps from the second floor. He was studying something in his hand, tapping and swiping and cursing in a language Steve and Bucky didn’t know.

Looking over at the teen, Steve frowned softly but held off on asking about the phone; Bucky would know if the phone was TJ’s or not. “Pietro Maximoff?”

Glancing up, confusion and sudden guilt and fear in his eyes, the teen swallowed, putting the hand with the unknown device behind his back. His accent was the same as Wanda’s, Eastern European of some unknown source. “Yes? Who are you?”

Pulling out his credentials again and showing them to the teenager, Steve said, “I’m Detective Steve Rogers with Brooklyn Special Crimes. Might I please see that phone you’re hiding?”

Blinking in horror, the boy said, “phone? Why? I only found it. I’m trying to figure out who’s it is so I can give it back, I swear!” Pietro held out a trembling hand with a battered phone, screen cracked and water damaged.

Pulling on a pair of gloves he always kept on him, Steve took the phone and clicked the home button. The screen flickered to life and the damaged screen displayed a picture of Bucky and TJ, both dressed in Halloween costumes by the looks of it. “Is this TJ’s phone, Bucky?” Steve held it out to Bucky.

Bucky sobbed and nodded, reaching out a shaking hand. “His phone was pristine at lunch! What’d you do to him? Beat him up and rob him?” Bucky turned a miserable glare on the teen, who shook his head looking horrified.

“No! I found it at the subway station, the B line. It was just outside the steps that go down. I promise, I never saw anyone. I hurt no one!” Pietro sounded terrified.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Steve soothed the young man, “Pietro, you said you found this right outside the B line station? About what time did you find it?”

Worrying, Pietro glanced at Bucky then sidled just a tad closer to the cop. “I found it at seven this morning. Around seven. I was looking for cans and bottles, you know, to turn in for money? I needed to get coins for saving. I am saving for Wanda’s Christmas gift. I almost have enough.”

“You found the phone at _seven_ this morning?” Steve asked for clarification. He was surprised the phone had lasted that long in the snowy weather - - maybe TJ had been out that morning?

Hanging his head, Pietro admitted, “no, sir. I found it around two, but Wanda will be very angry to hear I was out in the night. She worries since I was robbed in May.”

“Okay, so, you found the phone at two in the morning. Did you see anything else? Anything that might seem like nothing but was out of the ordinary?” Steve asked, feeling more and more like something bad had happened to TJ, that the teen hadn’t run away.

“Nothing unusual, sir.” Pietro risked a glance at Bucky then hung his head and said, voice shaking, “footprints in the snow, filling fast, but that is normal. And trash, things people throw away because they are careless or dirty. A needle, a newspaper, some broken glass, an old book, a lighter. Trash."

“An old book? Was it a textbook, maybe?” Steve pushed, giving Pietro a reassuring smile.

“I did not look, because it was warped from weather. I did not think I could sell it so left it. It was near the garbage bin.” Pietro raised his eyes.

Pulling out the photo of TJ he had, Steve held it out to Pietro, “have you ever seen this man?”

Nodding immediately, Pietro answered, “oh, yes, he walks to the subway and the college all the time. He smiles but never talks. He looks in a hurry, so I do not stop him. We merely nod and pass. I think he is a professor, he is so smart dressed.”

“Did you see him last night?” Steve asked, keeping the photo out for Pietro to look at.

Shaking his head, Pietro sighed, “never after eleven thirty. He is never out that late. I saw him going to the school at half past noon, yesterday. He was in a blue shirt and tan slacks. He had boots and a coat on, but his coat was open. He had several books in his coat. I think he wanted to stop the snow wetting them and forgot his bag, so I just smile and keep walking, as always.”

Bucky said, “yes, that’s right. Teej forgot his backpack, but it was empty and I didn’t go after him. I had a Cadillac with a bad transmission I had to work on.” The older brother hugged himself, looking miserable.

Steve nodded and gave a small smile to Pietro, “okay, Pietro, you’re doing good. I want you to close your eyes now and think of the last time you saw him, okay?”

Frowning, Pietro said, “why? I already told you. I saw him yesterday just afternoon. It was not days so my memory fades.”

“Humor me?” Steve asked.

With a sigh, Pietro closed his eyes and stood there, looking like he felt very uncomfortable. “Eyes closed, yes?”

“Okay, yes, keep your eyes closed. Now, take a few deep breaths, and just think about the last time you saw him. It was twelve thirty, it was snowing a little bit, right?” Steve prompted, his voice calm and strong.

Nodding once, Pietro sighed again. “Yes, but not a little bit. It was snowing enough to wet the face quickly and cause footprints on the sidewalk. And the professor was heading towards the college, towards the subway.”

“He was heading _towards_ the subway? Not the college?” Steve questioned, putting the picture of TJ away and pulling out his pad of paper.

Opening his eyes to glare at Steve briefly, Pietro said, “he was heading to the subway on fifteenth street. I saw him because I was delivering pizzas over there. It is not just near the university I see him. Over the months, I figured out he must live near Fifteenth and work at the university. I am from Sokovia, not an idiot.”

“I never said you were an idiot, Pietro. We just need to be clear on TJ’s whereabouts,” Steve said.

With a deep sigh, Pietro closed his eyes and complained, “my feet get tired. Would we not be better sitting in the living room or am I under arrest for not turning in the phone right away?”

Letting out a breath, Steve finally said, “Pietro, TJ is missing. He never returned home last night. That is why we’re here. I don’t care that you found his phone and didn’t turn it into police right now, okay?”

Eyes flying open, Pietro’s mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked and said, “never re . . . he always goes to the subway from the college. He walks there and arrives around elven at night. If I am on the other side, he arrives by eleven thirty if the subway is not late. All the time. He is punctual.”

“Which is why him not returning home last night is not good. Now, please, close your eyes and think for me. Was anyone following him? Did you hear him talking to anyone?” Steve pushed.

“I,” Pietro wrung his hands together, “I was on the other side last night before midnight. And the eleven-thirty subway train came and went. I did not see the professor. I did not think about it. Sometimes he doesn’t go. I didn’t think he might be . . . missing or hurt or . . . was he robbed? It is dangerous near that platform. I was robbed there in May and beaten up. I was in hospital for two weeks, and my kidney was very badly damaged. Is he in hospital?”

Bucky let out a sob and blindly stumbled for the door. “I never checked . . .”

Sighing, Steve told Pietro, “stay here.” He turned and followed Bucky to the door and grabbed him before he could leave the warm home. “Bucky, we already have people checking the hospitals for anyone that matches TJ’s description. We haven’t heard anything back so that means he hasn’t been found yet.” Steve looked down at the phone in Bucky’s hand, “do you know TJ’s phone code?”

Shakily, Bucky told Steve, “LunaRocks with a zero instead of the oh and a five for the ess - - and the ell and arr are capitals.” He offered the phone, hugging himself. “Do you think he was . . . taken by drug dealers or sex slavers or something? TJ’s very pretty . . .” Bucky’s thoughts became more frightened and more wild in assumptions since he’d first called emergency services.

Taking the phone, Steve typed in the code for the phone and unlocked it. He went to TJ’s most recent calls and frowned fiercely when he saw that the last call TJ had made had been to Sean at ten-thirty the night before. Sean had lied to them about the last time he’d talked to TJ. Looking back at Bucky, Steve said, “take deep breaths, okay?”

Bucky closed his eyes, finally losing against the silent slide of tears down his cheeks. He nodded and took shaky breath after shaky breath, hugging himself tightly, knuckles white.

Pietro hesitated then offered, “perhaps he stayed late at the college? Maybe fell asleep there? That happens for some people? My father, back home, was a professor and he would grade papers and stay at the school until he finished?”

”He’s not a professor,” Bucky rasped, eyes still closed, “He’s a second year student.”

“Oh,” Pietro sighed then tried again, “studying? Late night studying with friends for tests?”

“It’s the end of the semester, no tests to take,” Steve replied and then looked back at Pietro, “and you’re positive you didn’t see him any time after twelve thirty yesterday?”

“I saw him after lunch. I spent the day delivering pizzas and got off my shift around eleven. I stayed late at the shop to talk to my friend Clint, who came to get some pizza for his dog. Then I went to the subway station. The . . . the man was not there, the one I call professor in my mind. I didn’t think about it as I took the subway to my own stop. I came home, and went out again just before two in the morning. I went to the subway station near the college because the students always drop their bottles and cans. I collect them for the money. I found the phone and took it. I thought I could return it for a reward but could not figure out who it belonged to.” Pietro sighed and glanced worriedly to Bucky then back at Steve.

Letting out a sigh, Steve nodded and pulled out his card and handed it over, “if you remember anything at all, please, give me a call? Even if you think it’s nothing, okay?”

Nodding Pietro took the card and studied it. “The book? The one in the snow? It was not a paperback. It was hard covered. And it was big like a dictionary of English, yes?” Pietro looked up. “It . . . it was wet and the pages looked sticking together so I did not brush off the snow.”

Steve nodded, knowing it was most likely a textbook that Pietro had found. He’d have to send a message out to the beat cops searching the area to look for a textbook. “Thank you, Pietro. You’ve been a big help.”

“I hope the man is well, yes? Maybe with a friend to get out of the snow?” Pietro looked worried and hopeful.

“We hope so,” Steve offered a smile and glanced in the direction Sam led Wanda off to, wondering if his partner was done yet.

As if cued, Sam walked back out from the other room and offered a smile, the young woman right behind him. “How did things go?” he asked, eyeing the young man he hadn’t met yet.

“Pietro found TJ’s phone outside the B line subway station,” Steve held out the phone to show his partner the last call TJ had made, not saying it out loud and risk sending a very angry and desperate Bucky to Sean.

Nodding, Sam put on gloves and bagged the phone. “We’ll get it check out. Thank you, Pietro. Did you find anything else?”

Pietro looked to Steve, shifting from foot to foot in worry.

Looking at Pietro, Steve tilted his head slightly, “is there something else you remembered, Pietro?”

“No, sir, except that he sometimes is with a blond man and a black haired man. Sometimes alone with the blond but never alone with the black-haired one? They all go to eat together at the subway restaurant. Maybe once a week? I didn’t see the profe . . . the student, but I saw the blond man? He was alone, though, and he was getting into a cab. He looked like he’d been walking in the snow for a bit because his shoes were soaked. I noticed because they looked like leather and I think, _‘they are ruined, the idiot. If he walks in the snow, he should not wear the leather shoes’_.” Pietro looked around the back at Steve. “That was at ten or just after, last night. Near Third Street.”

Pulling out his phone, Steve managed to find a picture of Sean; he turned his device to show it to Pietro, “was this the man you saw last night?”

Pietro studied the picture carefully then nodded. “He is the blond man I see with the student, yes. I saw this man last night with the wet leather shoes.”

Bucky peeked at the photo and said, “that’s TJ’s boyfriend, Sean. His apartment’s over on Third.”

“You said this man was alone last night? You didn’t see him with anyone?” Steve asked, focusing on Pietro for the moment.

“He was alone when he got in the cab. It headed towards . . . . well, not sure, but in the direction of the university. There are many places he could go between Third and there . . .”

Steve nodded and put his phone away, glancing at Sam and then back at Pietro, “thank you, Pietro, really.”

“I will think hard, yes? Think if I can recall more, yes? I . . . I hope he is found soon? He seems so nice.” Pietro hadn’t stopped looking worried.

“Thank you,” Steve said again and then put a hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades to guide him out of the home, knowing Sam would follow. Once outside, Steve said, “we’ll give you a ride home, okay?”

Nodding, Bucky said “Shuri is his study partner.” Bucky got in the car when Steve opened the door.

“We were already planning on going to talk with her,” Steve said as he buckled up, “please, Bucky, you need to try and get some rest. Let us do our jobs, okay?”

“I can’t sleep!” Bucky let out a small mewl of despair. “TJ’s out there and he needs me! I know he’s hurt, Detective!”

Sam sighed and slid into the driver’s seat, allowing Steve to handle the distraught man.

“But running yourself into the ground and going after witnesses yourself isn’t helping TJ, Bucky,” Steve pointed out, turning in his seat enough so he could look at Bucky, “you’re going to get yourself hurt.”

Hanging his head, Bucky murmured, “I found his phone . . .”

“We were already on our way over here, Bucky, and Wanda could have had you arrested had you continued to argue with her and not leave their property,” Steve sighed and said, eyes sympathetic, “I know it’s hard, trust me, I know. But, you need to try and get some rest. Gotta be at your best when we find TJ, right?”

Shaking his head, Bucky buried his face into his hands and murmured, “talk to Sean. I think he’s done something because he couldn’t use TJ any more. TJ was going to break up with him.”

“We will,” Steve assured the worried brother, he looked out the window as Sam eased to a stop in front of Bucky and TJ’s apartment building, “get some rest. I will call if we find out anything, deal?”

Nodding, Bucky let himself from the car, not verbally answering, seeming like a whipped puppy. He walked slowly, dejectedly up to the door of the apartment and let himself in, not looking back. Sam let out a whoosh. “Damn, either he did it and is a damn fine actor or he’d really torn.”

“I don’t think he did anything to hurt, TJ,” Steve answered, looking back at Sam, “and it’s not just because I _feel_ for him or anything. Sean was all over the place, he kept throwing possible suspects at us without us even prodding for them. I get a bad feeling about the guy.”

Sam studied his partner a long moment and asked, almost casually, “who said you had feelings for the guy? Do you, Steve? Are you compromised?”

“What? No . . . not feelings like _that_. I meant, like, ya know . . . feel sympathetic for him?” Steve replied, looking surprised.

Nodding, Sam said, “I always feel sympathetic for the victims and families. Gotta bury it while we work the case, Steve. And, yeah, that Reeves guy sends up flags and bells. Wanna know who his friends are. Especially the dark haired friend Pietro claims he saw.”

“Well, Reeves should be off work by now and back at his dorm, wanna pay him and his roommate a visit?” Steve asked, glancing over at Sam. He knew that time was their biggest enemy right now. The longer TJ went without his medications, the worse he would get.

“Nope, want to talk to the best friend, Shuri. And see what the beat cops found out at the college. Give Reeves a chance to catch his breath and think we believed him. Let him get his guard down or go back and check his own path to make sure he covered things up. Put a watch, discrete, on him.”

Nodding, Steve said, “alright, let’s go talk with Shuri. But, I’m gonna call and see how the others are doing with the cameras near the subway.” While Sam drove, Steve pulled out his phone and dialed the number of one of the cops working the college scene.

Sam nodded and drove towards the address they had for Shuri, TJ’s best friend. He listened in as Steve, on speaker phone, spoke to the other cops.

“Officer Castle,” the gruff voice responded from the open line. “How may I help you?”

“Castle, it’s Rogers, how’s it looking at the scene? Did you find anything?” Steve asked.

“Text book on compositional styles throughout the ages in Europe, been snow damaged. CCTV broken before the incident, vandal unidentified. Last images are the day before, so no help. Too many footprints to be useful, no blood, a dirty needle and some other trash. Collected it all and took pictures,” Castle reported, sounding disgruntled.

“Send the needle to the lab so it can be tested,” Steve replied, feeling slightly discouraged, but he wasn’t about to give up. He didn’t like that the cameras had been destroyed the day before . . . that seemed like too much of a coincidence.

“Already have, sir. Waiting on results on all of it. They’re gonna dry out the book and see if they can find writing. There was a notebook page in there, but as is, wasn’t useful. Forensics are looking into it, just in case. Still doing knock and talk, but nothing out of the ordinary. Reports of drug dealers, suggested a slavery ring, aliens instigating the alley cats into an uprising, and a foreign plot started by Nazis,” Frank sounded annoyed.

Sighing, running his free hand down his face, Steve nodded and said, “alright, keep me posted. Thanks, Frank.”

“Will do, Rogers. Out.” Frank hung up.

Sam shook his head. “Typical responses so far. Let’s go talk to Shuri. Got to get the forensic team on Bucky and TJ’s phones soon. Might be something useful.”

Steve nodded and rubbed his eyes, feeling exhausted yet wide awake at the same time. The drive didn’t take long and soon they stopped in front of a large home in the suburbs of Brooklyn. Once out of the car, Steve led Sam up to the the front door and knocked firmly on the solid surface.

A friendly voice with an amused tone in her accents asked over a hidden speaker, “how may I help you today?”

Looking around, Steve didn’t see any intercom system so just decided to call out, “Detectives Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. We’re with Brooklyn Special Crimes . . . we were hoping to talk to Shuri?”

“Detectives?” A buzz sounded and the door unlocked. “Has something happened to TJ?”

Blinking, Steve looked at Sam and then at the door, “why do you think something happened to him?” He waited until the door opened.

“Come in. Or do you wish to do this over the intercom?” the voice asked, no longer sounding amused, just worried and professional.

Glancing at Sam again, Steve nodded once and opened the door, stepping into the large home. He looked around again, trying to find the woman who was speaking to them.

Sam followed Steve in, also looking around at the beautifully decorated home with the glass, chrome, and technological decor. From a door, slowly shifting open to the left, the same voice came, traced back to a slender college age woman. She had long black hair done in intricate braids, put up on her head, and wide, friendly dark eyes. The accent, and her dark-skinned good looks, placed her most likely as being from one of the African nations, as Bucky had claimed. “Come in, detectives. You asked how I know TJ is hurt. Simply because I have done nothing to merit detectives visiting me, but TJ warned me that if something happened to him, I might be visited. He was very interested in police shows.”

“Why did TJ think something might happen to him?” Steve asked, frowning softly in worry. “You’re Shuri, right?”

“I am Shuri, of Wakanda. My brother is T’Challa, also of Wakanda.” She gracefully walked over to the two men and looked up at them. “And TJ was afraid of a man he no longer wished to have a relationship with. He warned me two weeks ago that he was considering breaking off all relations but was afraid the man would retaliate with violence.”

“Had Sean reacted violently with TJ before?” Steve asked, pulling out his notepad immediately to begin taking notes.

Blinking, Shuri tilted her head, a smile playing quickly over her face. “Did I say his name was _Sean_ , detective? I had thought I was being circumspect.”

“Had anyone been violent with TJ before?” Steve asked again.

Shuri gestured to the couch in the open-floor plan home. “Please, sit.” She, herself, sat gracefully on the edge of a plush chair. “You were correct. TJ said it was Sean he wished to break up with. But he never said it was Sean he feared violence from. Sean has a roommate who makes money by engaging in illicit trade. TJ said he thought Sean’s friend might have stolen some of his medicine, medicine which is not only expensive but vital to TJ’s emotional well being. TJ told Sean, but apparently was not pleased with the response. He did not tell me what Sean said, but he did say he wanted to end his relationship with Sean.”

“And, do you know when he was planning on ending the relationship?” Steve asked, watching Shuri closely with a soft frown.

Shaking her head, Shuri met Steve’s eyes. “No, detective. He told me two weeks ago of this and then did not mention it again. I am scheduled to have lunch with him today, at one thirty. He did not call to cancel or reschedule, but he did not confirm this morning.” She folded her hands together, appearing quite in control. “TJ called me during a break in his last class last evening, perhaps at nine at night, to verify our luncheon, but normally he would also check in during the morning unless he’s very busy. I would have called him to remind him in about ten minutes.”

Letting out a breath, Steve nodded and said, “TJ never made it home last night. As of right now, you are the last person confirmed to have spoken to him. Did he sound anxious or upset?”

“Last night, he sounded anxious, yes,” Shuri leaned forward a bit, her eyes turning worried. “He also was very excited because he passed all his exams. He was excited to tell his brother, Bucky. Bucky likes to celebrate TJ’s achievements to encourage him to keep doing well. TJ has depression, and Bucky feels rewards help TJ feel good about himself. He did not mention any reason he was anxious, however.” Shuri tilted her head. “He never mentioned anything except getting home to Bucky as quickly as possible so they could celebrate before Bucky had to get sleep for work.”

Writing down what Shuri told him, Steve let out a breath and nodded, “so, you haven’t noticed any signs of abuse on TJ? Anything out of the ordinary the last few weeks?”

Shuri looked thoughtful, not jumping to conclusions as many might. Finally, she said, “he had a black eye on Wednesday last week. I did not ask him about it. TJ is clumsy sometimes and it looked as if he’d hit his face on a step or the wall from tripping. It did not look like a fist mark. I have seen fist marks many times on my brother. After class, he went to the bathroom and came back with it covered by makeup.”

“Has TJ confided in you about any type of abuse?” Steve asked, that sinking feeling in his gut getting worse. He highly doubted that Bucky would abuse TJ, but he had to keep his mind open to that possibility.

Looking thoughtful again, Shuri shook her head slowly. “No, TJ has never mentioned being abused or _smacked around_ or anything. But, I do recall that he came from lunch with that black eye, detective. He often has lunch with me, but when his boyfriend calls, he will go to him for lunch. And on Fridays, this was Wednesday, but on Fridays his classes are all after lunch, so he eats with his brother.”

“And, what do you think of his brother, James? Is TJ and James’ relationship good?” Steve asked, looking over at Shuri, watching her.

Shuri laughed and nodded. “Oh, yes. Bucky is like my own brother, T’Challa. He is proud I have grown up but is worried I will stumble. Bucky is like that to TJ. He is a _mother hen_ , detective. But he is so proud of TJ he has different certificates and honor roll newspaper reports and such up in his office at the garage and in his bedroom. He loves that TJ is working so hard. No, I do not think Bucky is going to hurt TJ. He is the one who found TJ when he tried to kill himself. Bucky was the one who got him out of the garage and car and got him to the hospital. Bucky feels like he is very fortunate he found his brother in time. It was Christmas three . . . four years ago?”

Nodding, Steve continued to write things down and he listened to Shuri intently before he finally asked, “what about Sean? What is your opinion in him?”

The smile slipped completely at that and Suri shook her head. “He is not deserving of TJ. He has another boyfriend. And he tells TJ they are _just friends_ , but TJ thinks it is closer than that. And Sean lets his friend insult TJ and say derisive things. Sean insists Brock is joking, and TJ laughs and forgives, but I do not like either of them. If I had the right, I would tell them never to come near TJ again.”

“What kind of things does this Brock say?” Steve asked with a fierce frown, glancing at Sam and then looking back at Shuri.

“He calls TJ _drug head_ and _gimp_.” Shuri frowned. “He comments on TJ’s medicines, saying TJ doesn’t need drugs, and offers to sell them for him and split the costs. Things that are inappropriate about TJ’s body and how he is a _bottom_. But not in a nice way. He makes it sound that liking to make love with a man, taking him instead of giving, is the lowest place on the sexual ladder. He even, once, said TJ should get in a line up on his hands and knees with the _other bitches_. Detective, TJ is no virgin, but he is not sexually active. He wants to concentrate on school and health.”

“And, what is Brock’s last name? You said he’s Sean’s friend? TJ thought maybe even boyfriend?” Steve asked, disgusted by the things he heard that this Brock said to TJ. No one deserved to be talked to in such a way.

“Brock Rumlow? He is Sean’s roommate,” Shuri said, sounding surprised the detectives might not have known that.

Nodding, Steve met Shuri’s eyes.

Shuri reached over to a glass-topped table and lifted a tablet. She made a few swipes then turned it, showing a picture of TJ with Sean, the blond’s arm around the brunet. On Sean’s other side was a tall, well built, dark-haired man with dark eyes and very good looks. “That is Sean, the blond man, and Brock, the dark one. TJ is the brunet with the curls and big smile.”

Before Steve could reply, Sam’s phone went off, signaling he had a call incoming.

Sam pulled out his phone and checked the incoming call. Eyebrows raising in surprise, he stood. “Excuse us. Steve, give her our card. We have an emergency but will come back again.” Sam answered his phone and said, “yes, Mr. Reeves? We are on our way. Do not confront him. Go in the house and shut the door.”

Blinking, Steve nodded and pulled out his card. “Thank you, Shuri, if you think of anything else, please give me a call.” He turned and looked at Sam, paling at what he heard, “please tell me he didn’t . . .”

Nodding, Sam lead his partner from the house and directly to the car, getting in and belting up. He hung up and said, “Barnes showed up to confront Sean Reeves. He’s demanding to know where his brother is and when was the last time Sean saw him.”

“Dammit! I told him to get rest!” Steve ran a hand down his face, his own scruff beginning to grow in from being up so long. “He’s going to get himself or maybe even TJ hurt!”

“Steve, handle the man. If we get one more call against him, I’m gonna arrest him as a public menace. Got that?” Sam growled as he started the car.

“Yeah, I got that,” Steve sighed, slipping into the vehicle and buckling in, “let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything worse until we get there.”

Sam pulled out and headed for Sean’s recorded address. “Once we get Barnes under control, I’ll interview the pair of roommates. You either bring Barnes home or to jail, depending on what we find. Got it?”

Letting out another breath, Steve nodded once, “yeah . . .”

Luckily the drive to the dorm rooms on campus weren’t that far away and Bucky was very easy to spot, standing right outside, demanding to be let in. Steve didn’t even wait for Sam to pull to a full stop before he bolted out of the car and ran towards Bucky, the snow falling down harder and thicker.

“Bucky! What are you doing?” Steve grabbed Bucky and whirled him around, “what did I tell you?”

Tears streamed down Bucky’s face and he clutched Steve’s arms. “I got a call on the landline. It sounded like Teej. He was scared and said only one word before it cut off. I thought he said _rock_ but then realized it had to be _Brock_!” Bucky shook his head, clutching, “that bastard knows where my brother is!”

“And what are you going to do? Beat the answers out of him?” Steve asked, watching Bucky, grabbing both his arms and giving Bucky a small shake. “Why the hell didn’t you call us?”

Bucky lay his face on Steve’s strong shoulder and whispered, “I couldn’t get through. And you have my cell and I couldn't stay at home. I had to come get TJ. I brought his meds for him, even!”

“Dammit, Bucky,” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and held him close. Looking over at Sam, Steve told his partner what Bucky had told him.

“Steve, check your phone. Is it on vibrate?” Sam asked, sounding calm and reasonable. “Bucky, we’ll get you a direct phone to us so you can call and keep the other guy on the line. If TJ did call you once, he might do it again. You need to go home. Steve. Take him home. I’ll question Brock and Sean.”

Steve nodded, keeping a supportive arm around Bucky, and started leading him towards the cruiser. Looking at Sam, Steve asked, “will you call in for transport?”

Nodding, Sam said, “I’ll get Castle to come get me. You get the guy to his home and get info on that call.” Sam turned and knocked on the door, allowing the blond who opened it to see a cop taking Bucky off in the cruiser.

Steve nodded and guided Bucky all the way back to the car and then opened the passenger side door for him. Once Bucky had buckled in, Steve got behind the wheel and buckled up himself. As he pulled onto the road again, Steve shook his head, “Bucky, you’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“I couldn’t get through and he was scared. He needed help, Steve!” Bucky finally dropped titles or polite names. He was too desperate, exhausted and despairing, to be polite or formal. “TJ is being hurt by that fucking drughead!”

Sighing, Steve scrubbed his hand through his ruffled blond hair, “and you thought going to the man that supposedly is holding your brother and demanding TJ’s location was a good idea? Bucky . . .” Steve let out another breath and shook his head.

“I don’t know,” Bucky sobbed, slumping in the car, head falling sideways to the window with a thunk. “I don’t know.”

Letting out a breath, Steve reached out with one hand to caress his fingers over Bucky’s shoulder, “just breathe, okay, Bucky? Try and stay calm.”

Lifting his head, Bucky turned around as much as he could in his belt. “What if I’m too late? I’m going to lose my TJ.”

“Don’t think like that,” Steve said, meeting Bucky’s eyes for a moment before looking back at the road. “Do you still feel him, Bucky?”

“Feel him?” Bucky blinked and looked surprised. “Yes, how’d you know? People say we’re nuts, but I can always tell when he’s scared or hurt. That’s how I found him before. I could _feel_ him.”

“That’s what I thought. I didn’t think you two could have such a close bond and not feel one another. Almost like twins? They often say they can feel each other . . . even if one is halfway across the world,” Steve commented, glancing at Bucky and then back at the road, “so, I’d believe you would know if TJ is alive or not. He called you, right?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “it had to be him, Steve. He was terrified and hurting and sounded bewildered. He said that one word . . . rock or Brock. And the phone disconnected. It wasn’t pulled out of the wall because there was a dial tone. He hung up.”

“Did you hear anything else? A door opening or a voice in the background? Anything at all?” Steve asked.

“I - -” Bucky fell silent and closed his eyes, trying to think back, breathing to steady his thoughts. Slowly he shook his head, “I don’t know. I could feel, but not see. Hearing was muffled, just TJ’s voice. Someone was close but not sure where . . . behind him maybe? Maybe . . . behind a screen or curtain, because it was close.” Opening his eyes, Bucky sobbed out, “as soon as the call cut off, I felt pain across my left cheek and eye, explosive pain, then everything felt normal except TJ’s fear and pain.”

“So, TJ’s captor hit him or something,” Steve commented, thinking out loud once more. He pulled up in front of the apartment again and parked the car. Steve helped Bucky out and started leading him up to the door of the apartment, “and before that pain, you’re positive you didn’t hear anything on the phone? Think past the pain.”

Bucky slumped against Steve’s side, his hand shaking so bad he dropped the key when they got to the door. He sobbed, “just his voice, Steve. He sounded so scared, so small.”

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve said and then bent down to pick up the key and open the door for them. He walked Bucky inside and shut the door behind them, “let’s see if anyone called while you were out.”

Nodding, Bucky led Steve to the hall phone, which sat on the small table near some bowls for their wallets, keys, and stuff. Bucky stared at the phone a moment then sank onto a chair close by. No messages blinked on the answering machine. And Steve could see something odd: the phone wasn’t plugged in.

“You unplugged the phone, Bucky?” Steve asked with a soft frown.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “no. Why would I do that? TJ might call when his phone battery dies, because he forgets to charge it sometimes. I _never_ unplug that phone.” The explanation didn’t make much sense, since TJ not being able to use his own phone wouldn’t impede him eventually calling Bucky’s phone.

Crouching down, Steve grabbed the unplugged end of the phone and showed it to Bucky, “then how did it get unplugged?”

Bucky looked at the dusty cord with the slight fraying on it. He whispered, confused, “Teej saw it was frayed and unplugged it a couple weeks ago. I forgot to replace it . . .” He sobbed and said, “but he called. On that phone. I answered it and talked to him. He sounded so scared. The answering machine was recording! I swear! It was about ten minutes after I took my meds.”

“Meds? Bucky, you’re on medication?” Steve asked, his blue eyes looking worried.

Nodding, Bucky rubbed a hand over his tear-streaked, exhausted features. “Yeah, for sleep. I get anxious and can’t sleep, so the doctors gave me stuff. You said rest so I took the meds, but it’s not working, Steve. I can’t sleep! Not when Teej needs me!”

Rubbing a hand down his face, Steve looked at the phone and then at Bucky, “Bucky . . . no call could’ve come through while this phone was unplugged.”

Sobbing, Bucky shook his head. “But TJ called me.”

Shaking his head, looking sympathetic, Steve replied, “he couldn’t have . . . Bucky, you’re exhausted. You need sleep.”

“I took the medicine and I’m still awake,” Bucky whimpered. “I can’t sleep. I close my eyes and I see him bruised and on his hands and knees and hurting and bleeding . . .” Bucky buried his face in his hands. “And they’re raping him and hitting him and he’s tied up at the feet and hands to a hook on the wall. He’s being treated like a _bitch_.”

“Like a . . .” Steve frowned softly, recalling Shuri’s statements about Brock and how the man treated TJ. “Bucky . . . who’s hurting TJ? Who do you see hurting him?” He knew none of this would be admissible in court but could give him and Sam a little leeway when questioning Sean and Brock.

Bucky blinked open swollen, red-rimmed eyes and said, “Brock and Sean. That’s what I’ve been saying. TJ called and told me Brock hurt him. And that fucker Sean is such a little follower, he’d let Brock do whatever he wants. They’ve been best friends since grade school.”

Sighing softly, Steve nodded and then stood back up, offering his hand to Bucky, “here, why don’t we get you cleaned up and in bed? I’ll stay here just in case he calls, okay?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “there’s a phone in my bedroom and one in his. Maybe we should use those. The hall one’s frayed. They all have the same phone number.” He headed for the steps and stumbled a couple times, holding the railing, his eyes finally drooping. Listing, leaning heavily, Bucky tried again but couldn’t seem to find the step.

Steve walked up alongside Bucky and guided him up the stairs and to the bedroom Bucky told him was his. He led Bucky right to the bed, deciding against the shower and opting that Bucky needed sleep the most. “I’ll be here, okay, Bucky. You rest and I’ll make sure I’m awake to hear if he calls again.”

Nodding, Bucky lay his head briefly on Steve’s shoulder, breath hitching. He finally pulled away and looked at the bed then pulled his shirt over his head, revealing old scars along his back, heavier on the left side and arm. He climbed into the bed, on top of the covers, and almost instantly fell asleep, curled in a ball of dejection.


	3. Calmer Interactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Worry, Angst, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Referenced Illegal Activity, Referenced Selling Prescription Medication Illegally, Slander**

Setting: December 18. 6:15 PM, Brooklyn, NY

Later that evening after Bucky had gotten a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, Steve even managing to doze off in the cushioned chair in the bedroom so he could hear the phone if it rang, the blond detective gently shook Bucky’s shoulder to wake him. He’d just gotten a text from Sam to turn on the evening news and to make sure Bucky watched it too.

Opening drug-dazed pale blue eyes, hair tangled, sticking up and in his face, a bit of drool trailing over his right cheek, Bucky snorted and said, “huh? Wha - - ?” His voice rapsed from disuse and he seemed sluggish and drowsy. “Steve? You’re Steve, right? Is Teej back? He call?” Obviously the drugs hadn’t completely worn out of Bucky’s system because he sounded more tired than distraught.

Shaking his head, Steve didn’t look at the scars on the left side of Bucky’s body; he focused mainly on the other man’s face. “No, but Sam called me and said we should turn on the evening news . . .”

“News?” Bucky flipped over with a groan and tried to feel around his night table for the remote to his television. Hitting the power button, Bucky scooped up the controller and held it out. “You wanna watch TV, here’s the controller,” he said, eyes half closed.

Taking the remote, Steve flipped the channel to the local news and blinked in shock at seeing Sean Reeves standing in front of the main offices of the college. The headline under him read _‘Local Boy Missing, Loved Ones Seek Help’._

Sean, looking very worried, spoke to the microphones set up in front of him, “Hello, I’m here calling on the help of everyone to bring Thomas Barnes home,” an image of TJ, a few months old, flashed on the screen while Sean kept talking, “he was last seen on Friday night leaving the campus and heading toward the B line subway station. We are all very worried for his safety and just want him home.”

Bucky’s eyes opened wide at the first words out of his brother’s boyfriend’s mouth. Watching and listening intently, Bucky curled his lip and shook his head. “Scum. Attention seeking dickhead. He doesn’t care about my brother. He wants glory for being involved, even if it’s just because they’re boyfriends. I hate that guy more and more.” Bucky pushed the blanket away and stood up on shaky legs. He began pacing. “Who the hell said he should call a fucking press conference.”

“Not Sam or I, Sam despises the press,” Steve commented as he watched the information on TJ’s appearance slide onto the screen before Sean took up the TV once more.

“Please, any help is greatly appreciated, Thomas is on medication and could be very unstable. He needs to be be home with his brother, with me,” Sean looked extremely concerned but Steve could see the expression didn’t quite meet Sean’s eyes.

“What the hell!” Bucky froze, hands fisting in rage. “How dare he tell people that! It’s none of their business without mine or TJ’s permission!” Bucky whirled on Steve. “I want him shut up and kept away from this investigation! I want him to stop spouting my brother’s personal business. On meds is one thing, but _unstable_? People are going to think TJ’s running around with a gun or something!”

Nodding his agreement, Steve pulled out his phone and dialed Sam’s number, keeping it on speaker for the moment.

“You saw that, Steve? I’ve got someone going to put a kibosh on the interviews. I assume Mr. Barnes didn’t give permission for some of that information to be spread?” Sam sounded calm, but displeased.

“Hell no, Sam, using the word _unstable_? Who the hell coached Sean for this interview? Weren’t you with him?” Steve watched as the number for the Brooklyn Special Crimea hotline came onto the screen.

“No, I left a couple hours ago to check on a lead. Someone thought TJ might be staying over in the dorms with a man called Doug. Turns out, they’re good friends, but Doug hadn’t even known TJ was missing. Hasn’t seen TJ since Thursday classes.” Sam sounded frustrated. “I’m contacting Fury to see who is working with Reeves and why we weren’t informed.”

“The only thing that might come out of this is if TJ has runaway, the public interview might flush him out but . . . I don’t think that’s the case,” Steve ran his free hand through his hair, “was the roommate, Brock, there?”

“Yes. I’ll get with you about that interview after. I’m on my way to talk to Fury. How’s the brother?” Sam asked, sounding worried at last.

“Managed to get him to sleep for a few hours,” Steve looked over at Bucky and then sighed, “give me a call after you talk with Fury. And, unless an emergency happens, you need to go home and catch a few hours, okay, Sam?” Despite his neutral attitude, Steve could tell that Sam was doing everything in his power to get TJ home.

“Steve, you need rest, too. Are you . . . you need to recuse yourself? Getting a bit too emotionally compromised?” Sam asked, worrying for his new partner.

“Sam, I’m _fine_ , I’m serious,” Steve said, glancing at Bucky and then back down at the phone in his hand. “I’ll make sure I rest, too.”

“Okay, see that you do,” Sam sighed over the line. “I’ll check on you after I see Fury. Barnes want to press slander charges?”

“Yes,” Bucky called out, waking up more and more as the seconds ticked by. “I want to press slander charges and put a warning that he needs to address me or my representatives before talking about my brother. He should go through the local police before making public statements about an active case involving my brother.” Bucky said, “and now people might be afraid to go help Teej if they _do_ see him, calling him _unstable_ like that.”

“So, we need to arrange slander charges on Sean, but that can be done while you’re at the station. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Steve gave a small, reassuring smile to Bucky and then waited for Sam to end the call.

“I’ll see to it that the paperwork is ready for you, Steve. You make sure _our guy_ doesn’t do anything stupid like surprise witnesses and stuff, got it? Keep tabs on _our boy_ and I’ll run the other to ground.” Sam sighed in relief.

“You got it,” Steve replied and said his final goodbyes before hanging up. He looked over at Bucky and sighed, running a hand down his face, “how are you holding up, Bucky? How’re you feeling now that you got some sleep?”

“More clear headed. More in control. Still scared,” Bucky sighed and turned to Steve, studying him. “Your partner seems pretty worried about you not being able to handle TJ’s case.”

“Well, this is my first week in Special Crimes so . . . I guess it comes with the territory?” Steve offered a sheepish looking smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t handle TJ’s case . . . it’s just that Special Crimes is a lot different from being a beat cop.”

“And I’m not helping you get settled in at all, with my hysterics and chasing down leads?” Bucky asked quietly. He walked over to Steve, reached up a hand, then hesitated and dropped it, shaking himself. Stepping back, Bucky shifted his eyes away and down. “Sorry. I’m being the hysterical mom-kind, huh?”

“I get it, though, really. If I was in your situation, I’d probably be doing the same thing. Doesn’t make my job any easier but I understand. You want your brother back, and I want that, too,” Steve sighed softly, not getting into Bucky’s personal space despite feeling drawn to him. “I want to bring TJ home to you.”

Head shooting up, Bucky met Steve’s eyes, his own wide and hopeful. He stepped closer to Steve once more and this time placed his hand on Steve’s chest. “I . . . I believe in you, Steve,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to let you down . . . I don’t want to let _TJ_ down,” Steve rubbed at his eyes, feeling exhausted all over again.

Bucky let his hand slid down Steve’s chest, fingers a light caress. He took Steve’s hand and softly said, “you were ordered to rest, Steve. Come on.” Bucky tugged the detective towards the queen sized bed and sank onto the mattress “Come, rest. If the phone rings, you’ll still hear it.”

Steve didn’t argue, too tired to even say how inappropriate this was. The only thing that made Steve feel a little better was that he felt that if he was here, Bucky most likely wouldn’t leave to chase down witnesses or try to confront Brock and Sean again. Climbing onto the bed, pulling off his shoes so he wouldn’t track dirt onto Bucky’s bed, though Steve remained fully clothed otherwise, Steve patted the spot next to him, “you can do with more sleep, too, Buck.”

Nodding, the half-clothed brunet stretched out beside the cop. He yawned and said, “yeah. I will. Wouldn’t it be funny if TJ managed to find me a boyfriend this way? He always says I need one.” Bucky yawned, shutting his pale blue eyes.

Steve didn’t reply, thinking that idea over in his head. Would he want to get into a relationship with Bucky after TJ’s case was closed? He didn’t know much about Bucky’s personal life, really; he knew everything about TJ but hardly anything about Bucky. He knew Bucky was a mechanic, that he was TJ’s brother. Steve didn’t know how Bucky got those scars or anything personal. Letting his thoughts drift away with his exhaustion, Steve determined to sort through these thoughts after he’d gotten some sleep.

Just as he was drifting off, his arm instinctively stretched out and wrapped around Bucky, keeping the other man close, safe. Bucky, unprotesting, snuggled into Steve’s chest, his face pressed to Steve’s shirt. He let out a sigh of peace as he drifted deeper into sleep, murmuring, “Teej will call when he’s alone.”

**************

Setting: December 19. 11 AM, Brooklyn, NY

“Thank you for letting me borrow some of your clothes, Bucky,” Steve said as he pulled on the clean sweater that Bucky had let him change into. After a few hours of sleep and a quick shower, Steve felt a lot better than he had before, like a new life had been breathed into him.

Nodding, Bucky offered a smile, letting the towel drop to his shoulders, his hair damp and messy. He stood in a fresh pair of jeans, t-shirt on the edge of the bed, having used TJ’s shower to get clean. “Yeah, I wish I’d been smart and gotten to sleep a lot sooner. Panic, you know? Sometimes I get so worried, I can’t see straight.” He looked over to Steve. “So, what’s on the agenda? What can I do to help find my brother?”

“For right now? Stay here. If TJ can get to a phone or even out, the first place he’d call or come to is here,” Steve replied, walking up to Bucky and giving him a small smile.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked, turning to face Steve, stilling, shirt in hand. He looked worried, uncertain.

“Nowhere right this second,” Steve commented with a very small smile. Without really thinking, Steve stepped up to Bucky and reached out to brush some hair from Bucky’s eyes. Letting his eyes close, Bucky leaned into the touch with a small sigh. Reluctantly, Steve let his hand drop away and he cleared his throat, “supposed to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” his tone took on a lighter note, gently teasing the other man.

  
  


“Where have you been all my life then? I’m king of stupid,” Bucky offered a small smile, his eyes denoting an effort to go along with the teasing and play back, trying to allow himself to be distracted.

“Do you think you can eat something?” Steve asked, worried that Bucky hadn’t really been taking care of himself while TJ had been missing.

“Food, yeah, I can do food. Want some? I can cook something for us?” Bucky met Steve’s eyes. “TJ says I cook well despite being a grease monkey,” he smiled a little.

Smiling in return, blue eyes softening a bit, Steve nodded, “food sounds great, Bucky, thank you.”

Nodding, without putting on his shirt, Bucky turned and walked from the bedroom, hurrying downstairs to get busy and cook. If he kept busy, he might not panic as much; and he really wanted to be useful to TJ.

Steve followed Bucky down the stairs and into the kitchen. He watched as the brunet hurried about, tried to keep himself busy. After several long moments of this, Steve finally spoke up, “so, why’d you pick mechanics?” Steve figured this line of questioning might help Bucky keep his mind off TJ for a little bit.

“I love taking apart engines and putting them back together,” Bucky shot Steve a smile as he gathered ingredients together. “And I adore cars, even the old ones from a century ago. My teachers in school said I could go into mechanical engineering if I wanted, and I thought about it, but that fell through with the incident with Teej. Instead, I decided to just go straight for work, dropped college, and been there ever since.” Bucky began slicing meat and vegetables.

“Would you like to go to school? For engineering, if you could?” Steve asked, watching Bucky closely. It seemed that Bucky gave up a lot of his life for TJ.

Blinking, Bucky turned his head to look at Steve, his hands stilling so he didn’t cut himself. “I can’t. I mean, I guess I could, but I’d have to relearn quite a bit, you know? I was lucky not to lose everything when the incident happened.” Bucky tilted his head, “and now with my panic attacks, not going outside or anything like that, but I can get overwhelmed sometimes pretty easy. I’m on meds for that.”

“What incident, if you don’t mind me asking?” Steve questioned, “feel free to tell me to mind my own business at any time.”

A chuckle burst forth and Bucky shook his head, “mind your own business? I don’t see why, since you already know about the incident. I’ve told you, when TJ tried to kill himself.” Bucky finished chopping.

“Wait . . . you suffered brain damage from rescuing TJ from that garage?” Steve asked, eyes widening just slightly.

Bucky rinsed his knife and put it aside. He turned and met Steve’s eyes. “I guess I failed to tell you how I rescued my brother? He locked the garage and the car. I got in the garage and had to break into the car. I wasn’t thinking as best I could since carbon monoxide was leaking into the garage, too. I grabbed a heavy tool box and smashed through a window. Then I forced my way through the window to turn off the car and pull Teej out. I got shredded all to hell and nearly overcome by exposure myself. The sound of the crash drew our parents who called the cops on a possible break in _then_ came looking.”

Eyes widening even more, Steve’s mouth dropped open and he asked, “those scars . . . they’re from getting TJ out?”

Nodding, Bucky began to work on the omelettes again. “Yeah. I had physical therapy after they repaired the cut ligaments and blood vessels. I nearly lost use of my left arm completely but I’ve made a big come back. So, yeah, becoming a mechanic is pretty much a huge triumph because I can use my hands to take apart and repair cars, you know?”

Smiling softly, Steve nodded and commented, “yeah, it’s amazing, Bucky. But, you could, ya know? Go to school? Lots of people do it. You can only take a few classes here or there, might take you longer, but it can be done if you want it.”

Laughing, Bucky said, “I’ll think about it, but _after_ Teej gets his degree, you know? Right now, I’m happy and make enough and Teej has a full ride scholarship. Once he’s graduated and able to start pursuing his career, even if he doesn't have a job yet, I can think about trying to switch careers. I’d still find it fascinating working on even bigger machines, you know? Bridges, or dams, or roller coasters might be pretty cool.” Bucky served Steve and himself omelettes.

“Thanks, Bucky, these smell great,” Steve smiled at Bucky.

Nodding, Bucky sat down and met Steve’s eyes. “Bet you expected me to refuse to try or something, huh? Make myself a slave to TJ forever, even? My parents accuse me of that all the time. They don’t understand. I want to give TJ every chance. He’s not stupid, he’s not mentally handicapped. He’s emotionally compromised and has a few problems, but he’ll make it. He just needs the support. When he gets home, you’ll meet him and see.”

“I don’t think you’re making yourself a slave to TJ. Sure, you gave up some things in order to help him,” Steve cut into his omelette but didn’t take a bite yet, “but, it’s something that family should do for one another. You’re helping your brother learn to cope with his disabilities and live the best life possible. Saying you’re a _slave_ to TJ isn’t just insulting to you and the choices you’ve made but probably doesn’t make TJ feel very good.” He finally took a bite of the delicious meal.

Bucky beamed happily in relief, “ _you_ get it. It’s like helping a family member who’s terminal, but the end is a very much better prognosis. He’s been getting better by leaps. This is going to set him back, but I’ll work with his doctors and get him back on track. And, Steve, he helps me, too. TJ does his chores, and he makes me laugh and smile. He helps me not panic when I start getting overwhelmed with bills and stuff. I can tend to see the wall getting bigger and forget to look for a door or window, you know? TJ looks for those doors and windows. He’s very upbeat.”

Smiling softly, Steve nodded and said, “I can’t wait to meet him. He sounds like an amazing kid. I’d love to, after this, stay in touch . . .” Steve flushed and cleared his throat.

“I’d like that,” Bucky smiled, dropping his eyes in a rush of bashfulness. “I really would.” Looking up, his own omelette half done by then, Bucky said, “I think we’re compatible as friends . . . for a start. Yeah, odd meeting, but I’ve heard weirder?”

Nodding, Steve opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a ding of his cellphone. Pulling the device out of his pocket, Steve looked down at the screen, read the text, and frowned softly. Looking back at Bucky, Steve asked, “will you be okay, Bucky, if I leave for a few hours?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “yeah, I’m cool. Thanks, Steve.”

Seeming distracted, Steve got up to go retrieve the rest of his things he’d left in the bedroom, leaving his phone on the counter, face up.

Bucky began cleaning up the breakfast things, walking past the phone and, not looking at it, despite a strong urge to check it, Bucky flipped it face down. He let out a breath and forced himself to walk away from the cop’s private phone. He had plans for that day.

**************

Setting: December 19, 3 PM, Brooklyn, NY

Knocking on the door, Bucky stood calmly outside Sean and Brock’s dorm room, waiting calmly. He was dressed in dark jeans and a light sweater, a warm coat, and other outer weather gear. The temperatures were fluctuating outside and Bucky privately hoped TJ wasn’t outside. He’d be cold.

“Forget your key again?” Sean called from inside, sounding like he moved around, “thought you’d be gone long - -” Sean’s voice cut off abruptly as he opened the door and frowned when he saw Bucky standing there.

“Sean, I’m sorry about how I forced my way over last time and kept yelling and stuff,” Bucky instantly apologized in a calm manner. “I’m calmer now. And all I want is to ask you a few questions. We both care about him . . . please?”

Looking wary, Sean nodded slowly and stepped back, allowing Bucky entrance into the dorm room.

Blinking in surprise to get such a polite welcome, Bucky offered a worried smile. “Thanks. I appreciate this.” He walked in and stood by the door, not invading Sean’s space more than necessary. He did, however, look around the dorm room from his place by the door. “I was wondering, Sean, if you and TJ were doing okay or were you guys . . . I mean, TJ was worried about some things. Did he talk to you about them? Clear things up?”

“We’re a couple, Bucky, there are things we disagreed about but nothing so serious that I might hurt him, if that’s what you’re implying,” Sean shut the door and turned, arms crossing over his chest.

Eyes widening, Bucky shook his head, holding up both hands. “No, Sean, I didn’t think that, I swear! I was just wondering what TJ’s state of mind might be that night, you know? Maybe if he was distracted he took the wrong train or stop? Got scared and confused then lost?”

Sighing, Sean ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, “TJ was always distracted, Bucky, you know that. How many times have either you or I had to track him down after he took a wrong turn somewhere? But, I would think if that was the case, he’d be back by now.”

Bucky hugged himself, face falling, shoulders hunching. “Yeah . . . I guess he would.” He turned towards the door.

“Was that all you wanted to ask?” Sean sounded surprised, his brows raising into his hairline as he watched Bucky turn towards the door.

Nodding, Bucky said, “yeah. I just wanted to know if you’d seen or talked to him during class that day and if he seemed distracted or something. Just wanna find Teej, you know? I’m sorry I went nuts. I . . .” He opened the door to leave.

Standing right outside the door, hand raised to knock, Steve blinked in shock and then his brows furrowed in confusion. “Bucky? What . . . what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay at home?”

“I thought of something and came to ask Sean about it. TJ sometimes would take the wrong train or stop if he got upset. I asked Sean if he knew if TJ might have been upset since they were having issues in their relationship. I was about to go home again,” Bucky sighed, sounding lost and tired again.

“I can give you a ride if you wait a minute?” Steve offered with a soft frown, looking between Sean and Bucky.

Nodding, Bucky stepped into the hall, whispering, “he said he knows nothing.” Bucky sounded disbelieving but like he wouldn’t argue.

Steve nodded once, looking at Sean and then at Bucky. Lowering his voice, Steve said to the worried brother, “wait in the hall, okay? I should only be a few minutes.” Nodding, Bucky left the room and leaned on the wall in the corridor, hands in his pockets.

Looking back at Sean, Steve frowned and said, “you lied to us earlier, Sean.”

Eyes widening, Sean shook his head, “lied? What do you mean? I told you everything I could!”

“Oh? How about demanding to meet with TJ on Friday night?” Steve pulled out a picture of a faded and water damaged piece of paper.

“What?” Sean’s eyes fell on the picture and he shook his head again, voice rising a bit in self defense and worry. “I didn’t see him! Sure, I wrote a note. He was threatening to break up, and I wanted more than a stupid _Dear John_ call. But he texted me that he wouldn’t meet me. He had plans with his damn precious Bucky. I swear that guy treats TJ like his son or lover, not his brother!”

Eyes serious and tone firm, Steve said, “so, he threatens to break up with you . . . meaning you’d lose your steady flow of income and you’re . . . what? Cool with it?”

Sean shook his head, “I don’t need TJ for income! I have a trust fund.” Sean pulled out his phone and scroll through it then pulled up a voicemail message. “Here . . . this is how he decided to break up with me.” Sean hit the button and played it.

TJ’s voice came through the speaker, the teen’s voice trembled and he sounded upset, “Sean . . . I don’t - - we aren’t working. I’m not happy . . . I don’t like being used and made to feel like I’m worthless. I’m sorry but . . . we’re over, I don’t wanna see you for a while, okay?”

Sean looked at Steve. “I wrote him a note, demanded to see him so we could sort through it. He refused, texted that he had plans and didn’t want to see me.” The distraught blond sorted through his texts and showed Steve the proper one. “See?”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t show up after his class and go to teach him a lesson,” Steve said with a fierce frown after he’d read TJ’s message. “You knew where his classes were and what train he took to get home.”

“Of course I knew, and no! I wouldn’t hurt him! Why would I want to? He was my boyfriend. I thought maybe we could get back together . . .” Sean argued.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Steve corrected, raising one brow and leveling a look on the college student.

Glaring at Steve, Sean said, “didn’t I just say that, detective? Why the hell are you treating me like I’m in an interrogation room?”

“Because, you’re the last person to talk with TJ. That call? I saw the timestamp, Sean, it was after he’d called Shuri to confirm a lunch date on Saturday. Now, do you want to make this easier on yourself, Sean?” Steve didn’t back down, having a gut feeling that Sean was lying through his teeth.

“My God, you and that insane brother of his are nuts! I didn’t do anything! Go fucking track down some hobo to beat on. You guys make me sick.” Sean glared fully at Sean. “Get the hell out of my home or arrest me for something, because I’m done humoring your sick fantasies. TJ was mental. He probably wandered off, like normal. You should check hospitals or homeless shelters or morgues and leave me the hell alone!”

“Ya know, it’s weird you keep talking about him like he’s already dead,” Steve commented dryly, turning towards the door.

Rolling his eyes, Sean said, “in this crappy weather? TJ’s a wanderer with no brains sometimes. If he didn’t come home during a fucking snowstorm, chances are he’s dead, you asshole.”

“And you sound _very_ beaten up over it,” Steve said and then opened the door.

“Look, you Nazi wannabee, I did _not_ take TJ anywhere. I did _not_ hurt him. I did _not_ rob or rape him. I did _not_ kill him. All I did was send a stupid fucking letter to a loser who wanted to break up. My stupid pride took over like anyone else, and I wanted a chance to win him back. Big mistake. Now I’m being questioned like I’m Jack the Ripper!”

Turning to look at Sean, frowning fiercely, the expression terrifying on such a large man, Steve said, “now, who ever said anything about _rape_ , Sean?”

“I did, because I know where this is going and how you guys like to railroad people and throw charges at them that don’t exist then try to match the scene later if you stumble on something!” Sean straightened to his full height, smaller than Steve. “If you don’t have more evidence than a stupid note I wrote, then you can talk to my lawyer. You find proof I’m involved, you can come back.”

Steve shook his head, glancing at Bucky who leaned against the wall and then said, “I’m done here. C’mon, let’s get you home.” Steve suddenly treated Sean like the man wasn’t even worth _looking_ at, as if Sean was nothing, a bug to be swatted away.

Shaking, Sean slammed the door, muttering darkly, “I’m gonna wring his neck!”

Turning back, Steve gripped the doorknob and opened it, “that was a terroristic remark, Sean.”

Rolling his eyes, Sean said, “it was just an expression, detective. People always say stuff like that.” His eyes held worry and he backed up a little. “Go away.”

“No, I wanna know who’s neck you wanna wring?” Steve pushed.

“My roommate, okay? He fucking leaves his damn underwear all over the bathroom floor and it’s disgusting because he has runners!” Sean glared at Steve. “Why, think I was threatening _you_?”

“It’s not me I’m concerned about. I’d like to see you try to wring my neck,” Steve actually let out a mocking laugh before turning back away, gesturing for Bucky once more, who hadn’t moved.

“Why don't you do something useful and actually look for his body or something,” Sean slammed the door.

Bucky looked at Steve, his expression miserable and beginning to look a little far away. “Done?” he asked softly, sounding detached.

“Yeah,” Steve replied gruffly, turning to lead Bucky out of the dorm rooms and towards his car once more. Once they were inside, Steve sighed and looked over at Bucky, “I don’t think he’s dead, Bucky.”

Bucky blinked and looked at Steve then nodded and looked out the window. “Not yet, but Sean’s right. If he’s out there, the weather isn’t doing him favors, Steve. TJ’s in danger and I feel so helpless.”

“We’ll find him, okay?” Steve tried to reassure the worried brother, “don’t let your thoughts go there, okay?”

Hugging himself, Bucky hung his head. “I can’t help it, Steve. He needs me. I have to find him and time is just racing past.”

Steve sighed softly and nodded. The rest of the car ride back to Bucky’s apartment was quiet. Once they arrived, Steve helped Bucky get inside once more. After Bucky got settled, Steve decided he should call Sam, see if his partner had found anything. He dialed Sam’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“Detective Wilson,” Sam answered quickly. He sounded grim yet calm.

“Sam, it’s Steve, tell me you got something?” Steve asked, running his free hand through his ruffled blond locks.

"And what do you expect this quickly?" Sam asked, but answered his own rhetorical question, “yes, got a witness says he’s seen Brock Rumlow selling prescription drugs on campus.” Sam’s voice sounded cautious about such a report.

“So, send in an undercover, see if Brock is selling any of TJ’s meds, that’d be enough to bring him in for questioning,” Steve answered, hoping that this could be the first in a series of breaks for them. 

“Thought we’d bring in the boys and question them separately, see if one flips?” Sam suggested, listening for his rookie partner’s opinion.

“Have you already sent cops out to get them and bring them back to the station? I can meet you down there? I want to question one of them. You should question Sean since he trusts you more,” Steve commented.

“Slow down, Tiger,” Sam gave a small chuckle, “I was offering my suggestion, just like you offered yours. I think the undercover is a good suggestion. Do we have probable cause to believe he’s actually selling TJ’s medicine?”

“I’m not sure?” Steve answered honestly.

“Well the student did have an interesting nugget of information,” Sam sounded a bit disappointed that Steve hadn’t questioned the evidence a bit more. Working with a partner was going to be a whole new experience, Sam felt. “She said that the meds Brock tried to sell were for the exams week. And seemed to calm several of the buyers. She, however, did not catch who’s name was on the original prescription.”

“But, if it made the buyers calmer, that could be anxiety medication?” Steve offered, glancing at Bucky and then looking away.

Bucky, hearing Steve’s side of the conversation, sat forward looking eager and hopeful.

“Precisely. So, normally, the tail to see them sell is a great idea, but I’m thinking bring the pair in to ask about this, right?” Sam made his expert suggestion.

“And see if one flips on the other,” Steve agreed with a nod, “I’m on my way down. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“See you then, Steve,” Sam agreed and hung up.

As soon as Steve lowered the phone, Bucky asked, “you mentioned anxiety medication? TJ’s on that.”

Nodding, Steve met Bucky’s eyes and said, “we are going to question some people of interest, Bucky, people that might have information on TJ.”

“And I’ll stay right here this time, in case TJ manages to call or something,” Bucky volunteered, sounding far calmer than he had since this entire debacle had started.

Nodding, Steve turned towards the door but then stopped and turned back to Bucky. He reached out and took Bucky’s left hand, giving it a squeeze, “you promise to stay here?”

“Steve, the only thing that will rip me away, short of fire, is if TJ called and told me where he was or showed up and needed a hospital.” The brunet offered a brave, yet wavery, smile. “Now, go. Maybe whoever has TJ is getting sick of caring for him. If we’re lucky, it’s Brock, and he gives himself up in a streak of sudden guilt.”

Steve let out a breath and didn’t even think before pressing his lips to Bucky’s. The kiss was chaste and quick but there was no mistaking the move. He pulled back and gave the other man a smile, “call if you need me, okay?”

“As soon as I can. I’ll call and let it ring twice then hang up and call again, let it ring twice and hang up?” Bucky actually joked, setting up a sort of spy code. He reached up and stroked Steve’s jaw. “Joking. I’ll call if i need you.”

Smiling, Steve nodded and kissed Bucky’s lips once more before turning and leaving the apartment. He didn’t even think of things like _conflict of interest_. He felt drawn to Bucky and knew he wanted to pursue a relationship with him . . . hopefully _after_ they found TJ. Steve hurried to his car, noting the temperature had dropped below freezing, and to the station.

Once there, he rushed inside and met up with Sam, “are they in their separate rooms?” Sam would know right away that the borrowed clothes that Steve wore weren’t his own and definitely weren’t typical detective uniform.

Eyeing his partner, Sam nodded, not questioning his attire. Instead, he said, “well, that’s _almost_ professional with that sweater. We’ll look into warmer uniform options so you don’t have to go around in a civilian sweater.” But Sam was joking, since Steve was a detective and would be more often in a business suite than an actual uniform.

“So, we pulled in both roommates, who were actually in seperate locations so don’t know the other’s been brought in yet. Sean Reeves is in Room A if you want him, and Brock Rumlow is in Room B.” Sam sounded grim suddenly, far from the amusement while teasing Steve.

“You take Sean? He’s more likely to talk to you,” Steve offered, smoothing down his sweater and letting out a breath. “I’ll take Brock.”

“Just a head’s up?” Sam paused, not questioning Steve’s decision. “He’s not like Sean. He’s a tough, street kind. And he’s more likely to glare than answer. You got this?”

“I got it,” Steve nodded, giving Sam a reassuring smile. He let out a breath and then scooped up a file he had on TJ’s case on his way to interview room B. Opening the door and letting it shut softly behind him, Steve greeted, “good evening, Brock Rumlow, is it?” Steve looked up from the file in his hand and looked at the stocky, dark haired man with strong Italian features and dark eyes sitting on the hard metal chair in the center of the room.

Brock, a tall muscular man with good looks and a suspicious demeanor, like he suspected he was being toyed with at the least, gave Steve a slow once-over. “Yeah, Brock Rumlow. You’re the guy looking into the runaway Barnes guy, my roommate’s boyfriend.”

“I am,” Steve nodded, slipping into the seat across from Brock, looking down at the opened file again though Brock couldn’t see what exactly Steve looked at. “I’m Detective Steve Rogers. So, Brock, how do you and TJ get along? You must see him a lot being Sean’s roommate.”

“Yeah, enough. I mean he’s over quite some time since he and Sean are dating. Or, well, Sean said something about TJ wanting to break up, so maybe they aren’t dating? Not too clear on that anymore, but yeah, I been around the guy a bit. He’s got a sweet smile.”

“You’ve been Sean’s roommate for over a year, the entire time TJ and Sean have been dating, and all you can say is that TJ has a sweet smile?” Steve asked, lifting his eyes and tilting his head slightly.

Looking at Steve as if he were a bit insane, Brock said, “I didn’t think this was a social call, getting dragged into the police station. I figure, I answered your question that I saw a lot of the missing guy, and was waiting for the next one. You want me to give a speech, officer, you let me know.”

“I want to know what you think of TJ? How’d you and him get along?” Steve repeated, meeting Brock’s eyes.

“See, now you’re actually asking questions I can answer. You’re new to this?” Brock chuckled, as if he found himself humorous. He didn’t break gaze as he leaned forward. “The guy’s nice and sweet and very intent on getting his degree and breaking into doing music for movies. He and Sean seem good most times, but they don’t always see the same, you know? Typical couple. Me and TJ dont associate much.”

“And, what do they argue about?” Steve asked, keeping his voice calm and nearly social though his blue eyes were hard and focused.

Shrugging, Brock said, “about why TJ would rather spend time with his brother than his boyfriend, mainly.”

“What do you think of the time that TJ spends with his brother?” Steve questioned.

“I could give a shit, you know? Ain’t my boyfriend. That’s on Sean to figure things out.” Brock chuckled and leaned back in his chair, apparently relaxing a bit.

“Yeah, but you’re Sean’s friend, right? You’ve got to have some sort of opinion on your mate’s boyfriend wanting to spend time with his brother more than Sean?” Steve pushed, closing the file for the moment.

Shaking his head, Brock asked, “why? Why do I have to care if the guy likes hanging out with his brother more than his boyfriend? Maybe that means Sean and TJ ain’t compatible.”

“So, you said you don’t associate with TJ all that much but I have witnesses that say you are often with him and Sean,” Steve pointed out, watching Brock closely.

“When we’re all hanging in the room, sure. He’s easy to get along with, even if a bit neurotic about times and places. But he seems a good guy. He doesn’t tend to do a lot of just sitting and watching the tube. Likes to be out, doing things. Says he’s _‘got a new lease on life and intends to use it.’_ Whatever that means.” Brock shrugged and sat back in his uncomfortable chair again.

Nodding, Steve shifted in his seat and then asked, “have you and TJ ever argued? Had a disagreement, maybe?”

“Me and TJ?” Brock laughed. “Sure. He and me argue some. After all, we don’t see eye to eye on somethings, like normal people.”

“And, what is it that you guys disagree on?” Steve pressed gently.

Looking thoughtful Brock said, “don’t know, really. Regular stuff? Uh . . . like if he wants . . . damn, you know, detective, I can’t think of anything specific I’ve gone and argued about with the kid. Maybe about his meds, I don’t think people need meds for a lot of things, or doctors either. I’m kinda into a different kinda religion that believes shrinks are pretty much using people for money and not really helping, making them dependant on drugs and stuff.”

“And, what does TJ say to that? Does he get angry with you? Does he get upset?” Steve questioned, leaning forward just a bit.

“Yeah, a bit, but nothing loud or mean. Kid’s too nice for that shit. He insists I’m wrong and my _cult_ is wrong.” Brock rolled his eyes. “He’s also too much the nice guy who follows rules. Like he’s done nothing wrong or ever will, but we all know humans are fallible. He can’t be some pure virgin saint. Gotta be hiding something.” Brock frowned a bit then shook his head.

“What do _you_ think he’s hiding, Brock?” Steve watched Brock intently.

“Maybe he goes to Narcs or AA or something,” Brock said, looking a bit more pleased to be speculating on TJ’s supposed bad habits. “I mean, we know he’s been on these drugs since high school. You can’t tell me a _normal_ person never gets angry or greedy or anything. He’s got tons of those drugs and not once is he selling the excess for profit? No one’s that pure!”

“You think that TJ is selling his prescription drugs?” Steve’s brows rose in surprise and he looked to be actually thinking it over.

Winking and settling back in his chair, Brock sad, “yeah, once in awhile. Whether he knows it or not. His boyfriend ain’t as pure as driven snow, either. Sean takes some of TJ’s meds and sells them for a tidy sun, Can’t say TJ doesn’t know, right? The guy’s obsessive.”

“You and Sean steal TJ’s medication to sell them?” Steve asked, actually stunned that he’d gotten Brock to confess to something illegal so quickly.

“What the fuck?” Brock shot forward in his seat and glared at Steve. “I ain’t never said I didn’t anything like that! I told you it was Sean, probably with TJ’s help. You _accusing_ me of something?

“Well, how do you know that Sean does it then?” Steve asked, tilting his head slightly.

“The guy ain’t exactly tight lipped. Likes to brag,” Brock growled at Steve, apparently far from ease at that moment.

Humming softly, Steve decided to drop something that just might get Brock to flip completely on Sean. “He does? I wonder what he’s talking about with Detective Wilson, right now? Man, I’d love to be a fly on _that_ wall, huh?”

“Probably blaming me or something for the drugs, if that’s what they’re talking about.” Brock crossed his arms and glared at Steve. “But other than that? Who knows.”


	4. Please Come Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Severe Violence, Language, Referenced Rape, Referenced Illegal Activity, Kidnapping, Referenced Selling Prescription Medications, Attempted Murder, Hate Crime, Suicide**

Setting: December 19, Tuesday, 10 PM. Brooklyn, NY

Rolling his eyes, Sean leaned over to carefully wipe a bit of blood from around TJ’s mouth. “Here, drink this,” he ordered, holding water to TJ’s lips, sliding an arm behind the bruised teen’s back to help him up a little.

“Sean . . . please, please let me go. I - - I won’t say anything . . . please?” TJ begged instead, meeting Sean’s eyes. He could hear the shower in the other room running and honestly wished he could get a shower . . . or at least wiped down so he wasn’t covered in dried cum, sweat, and other bodily fluids TJ really didn’t want to discern.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Thomas. You haven’t given . . . us what you can. You’re holding out and we . . . deserve better than the way you treated us.” Sean shook his head, frowning, not meeting those pained pale eyes.

Eyes widening, TJ croaked out, “I’ve given you _everything!_ I don’t have anything more to give you!” TJ’s body pulsed in agony, still in a state of shock over how his boyfriend . . . _ex_ -boyfriend could have done something so horrible.

Shaking his head, blond hair falling into his eyes, Sean blew out in frustration, his hair tousled but still in front of his eyes. “Brock says you have a lot left to give. You actually told us you wouldn’t help us with the money anymore. And you get lots. Your family’s got money and you get those checks from the state. He says you should be willing to help pay the bills since you party with us, Thomas. That he thinks you need to learn a lesson on being selfish to your friends.”

“I paid every time we went out!” TJ hissed out, trying to yank against the bindings that bound his arms to the headboard. “You . . . you or Brock never did . . . an - - and you started stealing my medication.”

Shaking his head, Sean said, “no I didn’t. I never touched your drugs. Brock said you could spare it ‘cause the state would replace the small amount he took. He said you didn’t put out enough.” Sean frowned and looked away from TJ, towards the window, the door, anything but the victim.

“So, you _rape_ me? Sean, let me go - - I’ll tell them Brock forced you . . . that you didn’t want to do anything, please?” TJ hoped if he could push Sean just a little more, that maybe he’d turn, help him get free.

Biting his lip, the handsome politician’s son fiddled with the edge of the dirty, stained sheet. He glanced towards TJ then looked away again quickly. “I can’t do that. Brock says you still owe a lot and he’s . . . he’s keeping an eye on everything. He’ll know.”

“It won’t matter if we go to the police together . . . please - - please Sean, I - - I can’t do this anymore . . .” TJ begged softly, his pale eyes pleading with his ex.

Keeping his eyes turned, Sean opened his mouth but it was a deeper, angrier voice that replied.

“What can’t you do?” Brock stood in the bathroom doorway, wrapped only in a towel, his dark hair damp and dark eyes watchful.

Head snapping to look at Brock, TJ struggled against the bindings once more. “Please, Brock . . . let me go? Y - - you and Sean have had your fun . . . please? I won’t say anything. I - - I’ll say I went off my medication or something. Please . . .”

Looking thoughtful, Brock strode over and studied the teen, his dark eyes unreadable. Finally, slowly, he said, “and what was it you wanted Sean to tell the police? That I forced him to do _what_?” The last word came out as an angry growl.

“I - - I . . .” TJ whimpered softly, looking up at Brock with wide eyes, “you . . . you raped me . . . hurt me. Please, if you let me go I promise I won’t say a word.”

“Now, you ain’t making sense, Tommy Boy. You say you were _raped_ and you want to go to the police, but then you turn around to my face and promise not to say anything. Now, you see, I can’t believe you. I don’t know which is the lie.” Brock shook his head, balled his fist, and slammed TJ upside the head. “Stupid gay-ass prick.”

TJ’s head snapped to the side, blood already beginning to run from his nose, and his body went completely limp. Unknown to the two older men, TJ didn’t pass out, still able to hear and comprehend what happened around him . . . despite the dizziness in his head.

“Shit, Brock! You’re gonna kill him if you keep hitting him like that!” Sean protested softly, slipping off the bed, looking down at TJ, dressed only in a pair of dirty boxer-briefs. For whatever reason, Brock insisted on keeping the underwear on between . . . uses.

Shrugging, Brock said, “you got his passcodes to his ATM account? Maybe even know how we can call in his prescriptions to get mailed?” The taller, broader dark-haired young man headed over to a basket and sorted through for something he could wear.

“You don’t think his brother has frozen all that shit by now? It’s been two days . . .” Sean ran his fingers through his hair, glancing at TJ again and then back at Brock. “I really think . . . maybe - - we should let him go? I mean . . . we got the bottle of pills he had on him and the few hundred bucks he had in his wallet . . .”

“A few hundred bucks and thirty-two pills? My God, you’ve gone soft! Do you really think he won’t blab? I ain’t going to jail for so little. If we let him go, it’ll be for a very hefty price.” Brock glared at Sean for a long moment. Suddenly he said, “and why should control-freak brother freeze anything? Weren’t you in charge of getting the faggot to give you a proof of life statement on your phone so his brother thinks he’s on a surprise holiday?”

Flushing, Sean rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet, “yeah . . . well, I kinda . . . forgot?”

Brock grabbed Sean by the back of the neck and dragged him painfully closer. “You forgot!” he gave Sean a shake. “Fuckin’ A! That damn brother’s gonna have the cops looking for us! Now we really either need a proof of life or a plan. Which do you think will go over better?” Brock shoved Sean away with a frustrated growl.

“Bucky won’t buy any proof of life now. TJ is . . . anal about sending his brother text messages as soon as plans change,” Sean smoothed out his shirt and said, “why don’t we take your parents’ car and drive over a few towns over and dump TJ out? He gets lost all the time and in his dissociative states . . . well, he’s easy pickings? A group of men a few towns over got a hold of him.”

Looking thoughtful, Brock studied the supposedly unconscious teenager. “Yeah, dumping him could work. But we gotta pick the right area. Can’t have him using a different story, neither. When he wakes up, he’ll agree to the exact story we tell him or he’ll pay. I can watch him anywhere he goes.”

Nodding, Sean sighed and ran his fingers through his blond hair once more. “Fine. I gotta go shower. Watch him?” Sean moved off towards the bathroom.

“Watch him?” Brock snorted and smacked TJ’s left foot. “The bastard’s out for hours. I’m gonna go get something to eat.” Brock turned and headed out of the basement and up the steps towards the kitchen.

As soon as he heard both doors close and the sound of the shower start once more, TJ’s eyes cracked open. This was the first time he was conscious while being alone in the room and he wasn’t about to waste it. Yanking on the bindings again, TJ pulled just right, managing to get the left binding to slip loose and free his hand. He quickly untied the rope on his right wrist and hurried from the bed. His head still pounded and his body felt sore as hell, but he ran as fast as he could towards the door and up the steps of the basement. Heart pounding in his ears, TJ sprinted out of the basement, hoping he could find a door that lead outside . . . and fast.

Luck seemed to be on his side as he found the front door quickly and ran out into the bitter cold air. He didn’t even stop to check where he was, just focusing on getting as far away from that house as fast as he could. His lungs started to burn though with the cold air and he was forced to stop, panting, and look around. He wasn’t too far away from the apartment he shared with Bucky!

The sound of a car coming closer, engine revving, filled the bitter December evening. A horn honked and the car swerved around TJ, but no one stopped to even check on the bedraggled almost-nude college student.

Stopping in his tracks, TJ’s eyes widened and his started to back up, away from the vehicle, “no . . . no . . . no . . .” TJ tried to run in the other direction.

As he blindly ran, he slammed into something hard and unyielding, a vise-like grip grabbing him by the upper arms and very painfully preventing him from falling. “You little slut,” Brock growled. He tugged TJ back towards the house, away from the car and the possibility of rescue the younger man had been too panicked to take.

“No! Please! Someone help!” TJ shouted, bucking and struggling in Brock’s arms, trying to ignore the shooting pain in his arms where Brock grabbed him.

Since no one seemed inclined to interfere, Brock managed to get TJ into the house relatively easily. He slammed TJ into the basement door then dragged him down the steps and back to the bed, slamming him onto the hard mattress. Brock began to tie TJ’s arms, quickly and painfully tight. “You fuckin’ slut! We were gonna let your ungrateful, sorry ass go. Now we’ve gotta punish you for being such a prick!”

TJ screamed, trying to be as loud as he could possibly be, praying that neighbors or someone would hear. He tried to kick at Brock, managing to get a few solid hits in.

“Sean! Get your fuckin’ ass out here! He’s trying to get free!” Brock yelled, loudly, displaying that he had no fear someone would overhear. Grinning suddenly, Brock looked TJ in the eyes. “Soundproofing you little freak. No one can hear you scream.”

As Sean came racing out of the bathroom, the man stopped short and asked, “I thought you were supposed to be watching him?” He lurched forward to try and pin TJ’s legs down.

When Brock’s hand got close enough, TJ bit into it, his teeth puncturing skin, blood erupting from the new wound.

Enraged, Brock backhanded TJ across the face and eye, instantly giving TJ a black eye as blood vessels burst. TJ let out a whimper as pain erupted throughout his eye, and the world turned upside down, he thought he may puke for moment but the feeling went away. 

“If I wasn’t watching, he’d have gotten away, wouldn’t he, you ass?” Brock growled at his partner in crime. “He bolted and I got ‘im back. But now we know we can’t trust him to play nice. Means we gotta figure a new plan.” Brock got the hand tied up and started working on the other.

“What are we gonna do with him? Your parents are only gone until the second,” Sean frowned at Brock, as if inconvenienced by their kidnapping victim.

“Well, since he’s such a burden, I say we ransom his ass for as much as his folks and that damn brother are willing to pay.” Brock gave the bindings one last tug. “And then, once we get the money, we give this little puke back.” The dark-haired man stood and nodded, looking satisfied.

“And, how do you suppose we call them? The cops have already shown up at my work and Bucky is pounding on the dormatory’s door! He’s making a scene!” Sean let out a breath, stepping back from the bed. “We should have never done this!”

“Sean, chill out!” Brock ordered. “We don’t hafta call. We can write, and disguise our writing too. We can leave little letters on the dormitory door for brother dear. And he’ll be so desperate to get his precious little fag brother back, he’ll pay up.” Brock sounded triumphant.

“If I’mma fag, so’re you,” TJ murmured softly, his world still spinning and his eye already swelling shut from the vicious backhand.

“Oh? Is that so?” Brock turned to TJ. He continued to grin. “Well, you ain’t heard the best part, Tommy-Boy. You see,” Brock chuckled, an unpleasant sound, “we’ll give your brother back his precious baby brother the same way he pays us: in small denominations.”

“Brock . . . you can’t mean . . .” Sean sounded horrified. He couldn’t believe he’d let Brock talk him into this insane plan - - but he wasn’t a murderer!

Rolling his eyes, Brock growled out, “oh, my God, you are such a princess! I’m _kidding_. Haven’t you ever heard of threatening someone? Jeez! Nah, his brother’ll get Tommy back in one lump sum, safe and sound.”

“Bucky doesn’t . . . have money,” TJ rasped softly, his head falling back to thump against the headboard, making TJ wince softly.

“Now why is it I don’t believe you, him sending you to college and all those cars I seen him in, different car each week.” Brock shook his head. “I ain’t stupid.”

“I . . . have . . . a scholarship . . .” TJ swallowed thickly and continued, “he’s a mechanic. We don’t have . . . extra money . . .”

With a frown, Brock narrowed his eyes. “You buying this poor little ragtag, Sean?”

“Brock, his brother is a mechanic and TJ got a scholarship for his piano playing . . . I told you all that before!” Sean sounded exasperated and worried suddenly.

“And his folks? They got money?” Brock asked, looking displeased.

“Farm in Indiana. Don’t have a lot of spare money,” Sean frowned softly, glancing at TJ and then at Brock. “What are we going to do?”

“Fuckin’ A!” Brock shouted. “I should just fuckin’ ransom _you_!” He started pacing across the basement room, anger seething from him. Finally, Brock said, “we’ll give the fucker back. Won’t ask for ransom. Just gotta keep him hid for a couple more days. Then we dump him somewhere and he can find his way home.”

“Keep him for a few more days? What for? We aren’t going to get money from him?” Sean questioned.

Throwing his hands in the air, Brock said, “because, dolt, you said it yourself. He goes all scrambled without his drugs. So, we keep him a couple more days, make sure he’s nice and scrambled, and they’ll never believe him it was us if he tried to tell them.” Shaking his head, Brock grumbled, “am I the only one with brains here?”

“You’re the one that got us into this in the first damn place!” Sean grumbled right back, glaring at TJ and then at Brock.

“You are,” Brock growled back, “the one that said your damn fucking handicapped druggie boyfriend wasn’t putting out no matter how nice you were. And he cut us off, even though we took him partying with us.” Brock glared at TJ. “Bet he learned his lesson good.”

“I learned you’re nothin’ but . . . a rapist,” TJ spat out, trying to yank out of his bindings again. “An ugly . . . horrible . . . rapist!”

Brock grabbed TJ by the cheeks in one hand, squeezing painfully. “You keep that up and murder starts to look real good, Tommy-Boy,” he growled. “Now you shut up. See, Sean, _this_ is why I said we needed a gag. Didn’t I?” Brock pulled out a piece of tattered, dirty cloth and shoved it in TJ’s mouth.

TJ gagged against the cloth, trying to expel it. His eyes blurred with tears and he tried desperately to get free, sobbing, the noises muffled behind the dirty piece of fabric shoved into his mouth.

“Well, you have a few hundred bucks, get whatever the fuck you want, Brock,” Sean gestured to the money they’d taken from TJ’s wallet that sat on the table by the bed.

Brock glared at Sean. “You going soft now? Don’t forget, Sean, you did everything I did. You’re just as damned. So don’t go getting any ideas.”

“I’m not goin’ to the police but I’m not about to go buy fucking sex toys when the cops are up my ass!” Sean threw his hands in the air and shook his head.

“Who the hell said anything about sex toys?” Brock looked shocked. “Are you nuts? You hearing little voices now like your boyfriend?”

“You said gags! What the fuck are you talking about?” Sean snapped.

“I meant so the bastard can’t talk, not for sex, you dolt!” Brock began to laugh. “My God, is everything sex to you, Sean? Ain’t you ever even thought about how you’d do something like this?” Brock shook his head and headed towards a pile of clothing. “Gotta do laundry. This place is starting to stink.”

“You mean think about how I’d kidnap my boyfriend? No, can’t say the thought ever really crossed my mind until you!” Sean crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is that so?” Brock chuckled. “Then why you all hard and pokin’ outta your towel at the idea, you sex fiend?”

“At least I don’t get hard over smacking someone around!” Sean snapped, cheeks flushing as he resituated the towel, gesturing to Brock’s own erection pressing against his jeans.

Snorting, Brock reached over and grabbed Sean. He whirled the blond around and pushed him against the wall, grinding into the other man’s ass. “You sure you don’t get hard from smacking? Some people do,” Brock purred and nipped Sean’s earlobe.

“Man, get the fuck off!” Sean was able to push off of the wall and stumble back, away from Brock. “Smack him,” he gestured to TJ, “I don’t do that stuff!”

“Sure ya don’t,” Brock chuckled and reached over to stroke the backs of his fingers over Sean’s covered erection. “Sure ya don’t.”

“The hell, man?” Sean shoved Brock away, “I said, fuck off! You touching me wasn’t part of the deal. Fuck TJ, not me!”

“Why? You ‘fraid you’ll like it too much?” Brock chuckled, undoing his jeans and releasing his cock. He watched Sean. “Afraid you don’t just wanna top?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sean glared at Brock, storming into the bathroom. “Fuck TJ and then it’ll be my turn.”

Grinning, turning towards the captive, Brock said, “he’s all hot and bothered now thinking about taking it up the ass like a whipped dog. He wants to be used and abused but is closeted, wouldn’t you say?” Brock slipped onto the bed and began, once more, the hourly torment they put the other college student through.

**************

Setting: December 23, Saturday, 10 PM. Brooklyn, NY

Whimpering behind the gag stuffed in his mouth, TJ Barnes yanked and pulled frantically at the rope that bound his wrists to the iron bed frame. He could feel blood running down his wrists from where the rough bondage cut into his delicate skin and the muscles screamed in protest as TJ strained to get free.

His mind felt lost in a haze of panic and depression, the pain throbbing throughout his entire body only serving to increase those feelings by tenfold. He wanted to give up; he wanted the pain to stop and to just _sleep_. However, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to try and get free, that if he didn’t get out before they came back they’d most likely rape him again and then kill him. So, TJ fought like hell, pushed to ignore the pain and frantic panic that swelled inside him and made it hard to breathe. He wanted to see Bucky one more time; he wanted to hug his brother and tell him how sorry he was for everything he put him through.

Tears running down his filthy, bruised cheeks, TJ cried out behind the gag as something popped in his right wrist. This seemed to be what he’d needed because the rope finally loosened enough and his hand slipped free. Sobbing in pain, TJ quickly freed his left wrist and then bent, whimpering as his battered aching abdomen contracted with the movement, to untie his ankles, using mainly his left hand since his right wrist started to swell and basically hang limply. TJ undid the gag and sobbed once as his chapped and cracked lips were finally able to close all the way, his jaw pulsing in agony.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his body throbbing and pulsing in pain, TJ could feel the dirtied fabric of his boxer-briefs sticking to the disgusting mixture of cum and blood and other various bodily fluids that ran down his thighs. His ass was probably the thing that hurt the most; they hadn’t used him kindly the last time, and TJ knew the damage was bad.

Pushing to his feet with another cry, TJ focused on taking one step and then another. Luckily the door wasn’t locked; his captors hadn’t locked the door because they had thought there was no way TJ would be able to escape from his bindings. TJ didn’t even look around the average seeming home he’d been kept in as he moved on auto-pilot towards the front door and out into the freezing air.

Barefoot, dressed only in his underwear, TJ started towards his and Bucky’s apartment. He didn’t even think about calling for help or trying to get to a hospital. He wanted his brother; he wanted to be home with Bucky. He continued to walk the streets, the frigid air cutting through him as if it was made of knives. The streets were mostly abandoned, the weather being too cold, and with the threat of rain or snow in the air, most people elected to stay indoors. The people who _were_ out either didn’t see the injured, mostly nude teen walking or they simply didn’t care.

About halfway, TJ could feel his feet throbbing and he vaguely processed the bloody footprints he left behind with each step he took.

Finally, he looked up at his apartment and let out a soft sob. His body shivered and his cracked lips had started to turn blue; he could feel his body beginning to shut down. But, he was so _close_. Bucky was right there. He pushed himself, unsure how he managed to climb the stairs. TJ finally made it to the door of his apartment and knocked once with his left hand, his vision blacking in and out. He just wanted to see Bucky then he could sleep.

Opening the door, Bucky gasped in shock and flung his arms out to catch his brother. He slid to the floor under the unexpected weight but then got both arms under and around TJ. Lifting, Bucky pushed to his feet and walked inside, heading directly for the bedroom. He slipped into the bed with his brother and started wrapping blankets around the freezing young man. “Teej! Baby, you’re home! You’re safe now!”

  
  


Sobbing, TJ turned his face into Bucky’s neck, his breath hitching and cutting with his cries, “I - - I’m . . . s - - sorry! S - - so . . . s - - so sorry . . .”

Not sure what TJ apologized for, Bucky simply said, “all’s forgiven, little one. I’m calling the hospital.” He maneuvered his phone from his pocket and hit the emergency line he’d programed in so it went directly to Steve’s number.

The phone rang a few times before Steve picked up; he sounded a little distracted, “Bucky? Can th - -”

“Steve, TJ just came home. Need hospital. Immediately. He’s bad off!” Bucky rushed his words, but his voice held urgency and worry.

“Wait . . . what? TJ’s come home?” Steve sounded stunned.

“Need hospital, TJ freezing to death and bleeding!” Bucky pleaded. “My arms are numb from carrying him! We’re at my house.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll send a bus over there right away! Keep him awake!” Steve ordered.

“Ambulance, Steve. I can’t dial numbers. Send an ambulance,” Bucky pleaded. “He’s fading!”

“Sorry, our term for an ambulance, I’m sending one over,” Steve said and then pulled away to call, “Sam! TJ is at the apartment!”

Sam, sounding faint to Bucky, called back, “I’m not going to let either guy go. Help TJ and Bucky. I’ll stall the suspects.”

Voice turning back to the phone, sounding like he was rushing to grab things, Steve said, “Bucky, keep him awake until the ambulance get there.”

“TJ,” Bucky sounded worried and firm, not hanging up, “talk to me. Tell me you love me, baby.”

Still shivering despite the blankets surrounding him, TJ looked over at his brother with dull, pain filled eyes, “love . . . y - - you . . . B - - Buck . . . wanted to . . . g - - get home . . .”

“And I love you, TJ Barnes,” Bucky said, nuzzling TJ’s cheek very carefully. “You’re home now. You got home. Now stay awake. Okay? Don’t let them win.”

“B - - But . . . I’m tired . . . B - - Bucky . . . I jus’ wanna sleep,” TJ complained softly through chattering teeth.

“TJ, listen to your brother. I’m getting you to a hospital and then you can sleep when the nurse says, okay? I need you to stay awake with me. Please, don’t leave me, Teej.” Bucky nuzzled again.

“Ambulance is on their way, okay, Bucky, only a few more minutes,” Steve reassured, the sound of a car door shutting coming through the line. “Keep him talking for just a few more minutes.”

“TJ, you’ve got to meet my new friend. He’s a cop. His name’s Steve. He’s been looking for you. Gotta meet him, okay, Baby?” Bucky nuzzled. “Say my name?”

“B - - Bucky . . . your n - - name is . . . B - - Bucky . . .” TJ whimpered, feeling his eyes starting to droop again. He was just so damn tired and he hurt _everywhere_. “M - - my . . . brother . . .”

“TJ, what’s your birthday?” Bucky tried anything to keep his brother awake.

Sirens pulled up and the sounds of people calling through the still open door came to them, “hello? Emergency?”

“Up here! He’s very bad. Please! Bleeding and freezing!” Bucky called out.

Two paramedics came up stairs with a stretcher. They immediately started processing TJ. The female asked, “your name, sir? Can you tell me your name?” She spoke directly to TJ, rubbing on his sternum to keep him awake.

Whimpering, TJ tried to move away from the uncomfortable contact and his dazed eyes moved around until he found Bucky, “d - - don’t . . . jus’ wanna s - - sleep . . . please?”

The other paramedic reassured them, “once we get him on some IV and warmed up, he’ll be okay. SIr, tell us your name and date of birth so we can treat you.” The paramedic began taking pictures of the survivor, peeling away the blankets and working quickly. He wrapped TJ again within two minutes and then began to wash his arm right near the elbow so he could get an IV into him.

“T - - T . . . J . . .” TJ answered, whimpering again as the needle for the IV pierced his skin, “ow . . .”

Another pair of footsteps sounded as someone hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom. Steve stopped in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of the injured teenager. His blue eyes moved to look at Bucky before rushing over to stand next to him, offering him support if he needed it.

Both paramedics continued to work on TJ while Bucky instinctively stepped back to lean into Steve. “He came home. He escaped, Stevie. He’s safe now.”

Wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, Steve nodded, “he’s safe now, Bucky. He came back to you.”

“And I’m gonna take such good care of him,” Bucky promised. “My little brother.” He gave Steve a bright smile then stepped away, over to TJ’s side. “I’m here, baby. You’re safe now. Bucky’s here.”

“Th - - they’re jus’ . . . gonna come . . . b - - back . . .” TJ sobbed again, his breathing still heavy and harsh.

“Who are?” Bucky asked, stroking TJ’s cheek.

Before TJ answered, Steve managed to pull out his phone and start recording the exchange between the brothers. TJ shook his head frantically, his world spinning with the harsh movements, “th - - they’re gonna . . . h - - hurt me . . . again.”

“TJ, tell me who it is so I can keep them away,” Bucky ordered firmly, stroking again.

“B - - Brock and . . .” TJ let out a harsh sob, shaking his head again, “a - - and Sean . . .”

Nodding, Bucky said, “Steve, you got that?” He leaned over to gently kiss TJ’s cheek where he’d been rubbing. “I love my brother. I love TJ.”

“I got it,” Steve replied, sending the video to Sam.

“Steve’s gonna have those monsters arrested, baby. You’re safe.” Bucky smiled at TJ, lifting his chin very carefully. “Okay? They won’t hurt you any more.”

“Not . . . not g - - gonna hurt . . . m - - me,” TJ echoed softly.

The paramedics looked to Bucky, one saying, “you can come with us. We’re transporting him now.”

“What hospital? I’ll meet you guys there,” Steve said.

“St. Mary’s,” the female paramedic responded then she and her partner got TJ and his stretcher into the hall and carefully worked their way down the steps, Bucky following. Finally, they got everything settled in the ambulance. Bucky climbed in and the vehicle took off.

**************

Setting: December 19, 11:30 PM, Brooklyn, New York

In the private waiting room of St. Mary’s hospital, Steve sat back down in the stiff chair next to Bucky, offering him a cup of coffee he’d bought from the vending machine down the hall. “How’re you holding up?” Steve asked softly. After arriving, TJ had been rushed away by doctors and nurses; they had yet to hear back on his condition.

Bucky turned a grim smile on Steve and said, “once he’s doing well enough, he’ll answer your questions, Steve. He’s helpful and good. TJ will want to cooperate.”

“That’s good, but not what I asked,” Steve pointed out, still holding the cup of coffee out to Bucky.

Taking the cup, Bucky sighed and said, “now I’m on edge and wired. I won’t sleep until I talk to him again, you know. I can’t. Body won’t let me.” He sipped the coffee.

Nodding, Steve took a sip from his own cup and let out a sigh, “they were trying to track his footprints but they stopped about a half mile away from the apartment, so they weren’t able to lead us to the location where he was held.”

“Did they pull out the dogs?” Bucky asked, curiously.

Steve nodded, pulling out his phone to check it, “they did, but I haven’t heard word back yet.”

“It’s something, at least,” Bucky sighed. “So, hey, Steve, what’s the policy on dating me now? Do we gotta wait until after the trial or is now good?” Bucky sounded wired but distracted.

Blinking, surprised by the question, Steve turned to look at Bucky, his blue eyes watching the other man closely, “it’s best if we want until the case is officially closed, meaning after the trial,” Steve said with a soft sigh, “sorry . . .”

Nodding, Bucky said, “and I should get TJ a lawyer, right?” He offered Steve a smile, accepting the limitation placed on them by necessity.

“I mean, you can? That’s up to you. The D.A. will be prosecuting the case for the State but if you want to get TJ a lawyer, I don’t see any problems with it,” Steve answered readily.

Blinking, Bucky said, “wait, the D.A.? You mean, TJ get’s the state’s best lawyer? Whoa, I never thought of that!”

“Bucky, your brother was kidnapped, held against his will for seven days by allegedly his own boyfriend and boyfriend’s roommate, and tortured. The D.A. is definitely interested in this case and wants Brock and Sean to see maximum punishment _if found guilty_ ,” Steve met Bucky’s eyes, his tone even and calm. “TJ is all over the news, since that damn press release that Sean did? And, it’ll only get worse considering he was one of the men who allegedly held TJ.”

Nodding, Bucky asked, “how long? I mean, TJ’s not going to feel safe if they get slapped on the wrist and out in five, you know?”

“Five? Bucky . . . they’re both looking at twenty years _minimum_ if found guilty. They could spend the rest of their lives in prison,” Steve answered, turning his body in the chair to face Bucky directly, “because of how rough a shape TJ is in? If they are found guilty, I doubt any judge will be lenient with them.”

“ _If_ they are found guilty?” Bucky shook his head, clutching the cup hard enough to nearly spill. “How can they not? I mean, look what happened? And he doesn't lie. If Teej says it was Sean and Brock, then that’s who it was!”

“And I doubt that any jury that sees the evidence, listens to TJ’s ID, will find them not guilty,” Steve agreed with a nod, “but there is always that slim chance - - but let’s not worry about that _right_ now, okay?”

Nodding, Bucky slid the cup to a table and hugged himself. “Think he’s still awake? Or did they let him sleep? Think he’s sick enough he’s gonna be in a coma?” Bucky sounded more and more worried as the time passed.

“I’m not sure, Bucky . . .” Steve answered, setting down his own cup of coffee and wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “He’s a fighter, though, that’s what I do know.”

Nodding, Bucky leaned into Steve. “TJ’s a fighter all right, especially since he knows I’m in his corner.” He sighed and ran a hand through his disordered brown curls. “It’s the waiting that drives me nuts.”

And wait they did, for nearly an hour longer. Finally, however, a doctor made an appearance. She was small and well put together, with long dark hair, big dark eyes, and a ready smile. “Barnes?” she asked.

Bucky’s head snapped up and he rose to his feet. “Present?” he asked, sounding hesitant.

WIth a nod, the woman said, “I’m Doctor Dana Smith, the on call physician.” She walked over to the pair of men. “You can see him now. He’s in a private room and resting, but visitors are welcome.”

Gratitude swept over Bucky and he offered first Dr. Smith then Steve a smile. Turning, he followed the doctor from the room, quietly asking, “how is he holding up, doctor? He was so badly hurt and tired and . . .” Bucky trailed off with a shudder.

“We’ve got him warm and on fluids. He’s had tests run and has been cleaned up and is resting now. We’ve given everything over to the police, including the clothing he was in and numerous pictures.” Dr. Smith led Bucky and Steve down a couple of corridors to a private room. Stopping outside the closed door. Voice low, she said, “he was severely tortured and raped multiple times, barely fed, and was going into hypothermia when you got him help. He’s suffered a very harsh blow to his psychological well being. We’re putting him on medication once more, but it has to stabilize. I recommend keeping him in the hospital at least tomorrow and tomorrow night.”

Glancing at the door then the doctor, Bucky asked, “is he . . . too damaged to heal right? For a normal relationship?”

Dr. Smith shook her head. “He’ll take some time, and needs counseling and therapy, Mr. Barnes, but physically, he’ll heal well.”

Bucky swallowed and opened the door, looking over at his brother’s small, battered form in the white bed. Softly, he approached the bed, calling in a low tone, “hey, Teej, it’s Bucky.”

Steve waited by the door, watching Bucky and TJ. He felt a mixture of emotions surrounding the pair. He was happy that TJ was home, alive, but he knew that the brothers would have a long road ahead of them and it wouldn’t be an easy path. Steve hoped to be able to help them both. He felt an attraction and incredible draw to Bucky.

Stopping beside TJ’s bed, Bucky sank onto a chair and reached out to stroke a part of TJ that appeared relatively unharmed. “It’s okay, baby, you sleep. Bucky’s here now.” The brunet turned and said, “Steve? Can you get Luna from the house? I think it’ll go over better if he wakes up with Luna.” He wished he’d remembered to grab the toy before going in the ambulance, but Bucky had been too worried over TJ to think of his stuffed wolf.

“Sure,” Steve agreed with a soft smile, his eyes trailing down TJ’s bruised body, all the wires and IV’s in place, a soft cast around the right wrist. “Do you want anything else?” Steve asked, looking back up at Bucky.

Flushing, Bucky nodded, “feel free to raid the house and put together an overnight or two bag? For both of us? I wasn’t thinking straight from the moment he didn’t come home. Once he showed, my brain took off.” He pulled out his keys and handed them over to Steve.

“Sure thing,” Steve agreed, walking up to Bucky and taking the keys. Once close enough, Steve leaned down to kiss Bucky’s lips very gently. “I’ll get you guys some of the necessities.”

Bucky smiled into the kiss and actually kissed back, hand going up to stroke at Steve’s blond hair on his nape. “Gonna so love it when the case ends,” he said.

“You and me both,” Steve breathed out, kissing again quickly before slowly straightening up once more his hand taking Bucky’s as it fell from off his neck.

Smiling softly, Bucky stepped close to nuzzle at Steve’s neck. “Drive safe. Come back soon.”

“I will. If you think of anything either of you need, give me a call, okay?” Steve asked, his breath ghosting down the side of Bucky’s neck.

“You got it, Stevie.” Bucky agreed. He reached out to stroke TJ’s cheek again. “We’ll be right here.”

Steve nodded and turned, leaving the hospital room and walking through the long halls until he made it outside once more and to his car. He ran a hand down his face, exhausted but too wired to even think about sleep, and pulled out his phone. He dialed Sam’s number, leaving it on speaker so he could begin to drive to the Barnes’ apartment while talking with his partner.

“Sam Wilson, talk to me,” Sam’s voice answered fairly quickly.

“Sam, it’s Steve,” Steve eased onto the main road and noticed that it had just started to snow. Steve felt thankful that TJ hadn’t been walking in the snow, at least, “did you find anything? The dogs lead you guys anywhere?”

“We are right now processing Brock’s parents’ place,” Sam revealed. “And this place is a horror story. I think his parents are going to be livid when they come back from the Caribbean.”

“What did you find?” Steve was afraid to ask but he needed to know.

“Ropes, blood, semen, feces, urine, old food, dirty water, clothes which were cut, ties on the bed, objects never made for sex but covered in a mixture of body fluids.” Sam growled his list out but apparently kept working. “You got the rape kit and other tests and photos from the hospital?”

“Yeah, everything has already been sent over,” Steve confirmed with a nod, despite Sam not being able to see the gesture. “He’s resting right now. They said he was in the first stages of hypothermia, as well as a long list of other injuries. Fuck,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, “have you ever seen anything like this, Sam?”

“Yeah, and usually the victim comes home in pieces. You revel in the fact that your boy came home in relatively one piece and this quick. Damn miracles, those are.” Sam sounded frustrated and disgusted at the same time.

“And, what about Sean and Brock? They were arrested, right? Being processed? TJ ID’d them both,” Steve kept his eyes on the road while he talked to Sam.

“They are being held in interrogation without outside influence. Neither knows the kid even got out, let alone ID’d them. We’ll get to them soon enough.” Sam snorted, “let them wait and wonder. Sure beats what they did to TJ.”

“Got that right,” Steve agreed with a sigh, “his entire body is covered in bruises and that’s not even the _inside_.”

Sam’s voice came out in a rough sigh, “yeah, looking around this place, I’m surprised he doesn’t need colon surgery or something. Lucky kid.”

“I doubt he feels that way,” Steve commented, pulling in front of the apartment and parking the car. He didn’t get out quite yet, staying inside the warmth of the car while he talked with Sam.

“You going to take some time with the kid, see if he needs anything?” Sam asked, sounding tired but satisfied. “Counselors, that kind of thing? Kidnapping and abuse is a real serious trauma.”

“Yeah, I’m picking up some things from the Barnes’ place right now for them. The doctors want TJ there for at least another full day and night,” Steve replied, glancing out the window, watching as the snow continued to fall.

Sighing over the phone, Sam lowered his voice and said, “that quick, huh?”

“Quick?” Steve asked, “quick about what?”

Taking a slow breath, Sam added, “might want to keep it on the down low or risk things at the job . . .”

Flushing a bit and letting out a small huff, Steve replied, “that obvious? Look, Sam, I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t mean for it to happen but it did? And . . . we’ll be careful, keep it quiet until the trials are over, but we want to give it a try.”

“So, he’s on board with it, too?” Sam let out another small sigh. “You need anything let me know, but you gotta keep it limited. And recuse yourself from anymore of his cases,” Sam insisted softly.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve nodded and then said, “I promised I’d be back soon, call me if anything crazy happens?”

“You got it. Go, take care of those guys. And _be careful_!” Sam sounded a bit more accepting than he had just a moment ago. “At least, you’ll take care care of him and _his puppy_.”

“Bye, Sam,” Steve said and then hung up. He slipped out of the car and walked directly into the Barnes’ apartment to grab two overnight bags for the brothers.

Luckily, gathering the items didn’t take very long, though Steve was almost out the door before he remembered to grab Luna. Once the stuffed wolf was securely in TJ’s overnight bag, Steve locked up the apartment once more and hurried to his car. He drove as quickly as he could in the building storm but managed to make it back to the hospital within the hour.

Gently rapping his fingers against the door to announce his arrival, Steve slowly opened the door and peeked inside. “Hey, Buck.” It appeared TJ was still sleeping. “How’s he doing?”

Bucky looked up at Steve then at his little brother. He studied TJ carefully, reaching over one hand to stroke his cheek. “He’ll physically recover but he’s going to need some serious help coping with this.”

Nodding, Steve gently shut the door behind him and set the bags out of the way on one of the other chairs in the hospital room. He unzipped TJ’s bag and pulled out Luna. Steve walked over to the bed and set the stuffed animal so that TJ’s fingers brushed against it but didn’t interfere with any of the medical equipment.

Looking back at Bucky, Steve said in a quiet tone, “the dogs tracked TJ’s scent back to a location, Buck.”

“Good dogs,” Bucky said, turning his attention back on his brother, “and caught who did this, right? I mean, proved TJ was telling the truth?”

Steve nodded once and let out a sigh, “yeah, it linked with the men that TJ ID’d back at the apartment.”

“So his damned boyfriend and that guy’s asshole roommate?” Bucky frowned fiercely, his tone going cold, his eyes hard, though his touch on TJ’s cheek remained light and gentle. “My poor baby brother,” he murmured.

“Have you thought into going to counseling, too, Bucky?” Steve asked very softly, his blue eyes watching the other man closely.

Sighing, Bucky nodded slowly and softly said, “yeah, Stevie. I’m going to need some serious help coping so I can continue helping TJ, as well as hold down a job with real people. Right now, I feel like I’m slowly going insane.” Bucky lifted his eyes to meet Steve’s, “then I get near you and everything seems doable again. You feel like a rock just waiting for me to anchor to.” Bucky reached out his free hand and stroked Steve’s wrist.

“I want to be that for you, Bucky,” Steve agreed with a nod, bending down so he could kiss Bucky’s lips again. “I want to help you and be there for you. For you and TJ.”

Opening his mouth to reply, a very small smile tugging at his lips, Bucky’s eyes went wide as Steve’s ringing phone jarred over the men. His eyes snapped to Steve’s phone.

Frowning softly, answering the device quickly to try and avoid waking TJ, Steve said, “Detective Rogers . . .”

Sam’s voice shot out over the line, harsh and disbelieving. “Steve, sit your ass down right now,” he barked hoarsely.

“What happened?” Steve immediately asked, taking a seat in the chair right next to Bucky. His blue eyes moved to look at Bucky, worrying flashing in them. “Sam, you sound shook.”

With a low growl, Sam said, “you fuckin’ sittin’?” Then, without waiting for Steve’s answer, Sam said, “Brock Rumlow just offed himself in Interrogation Room Three.”

“How the hell did he do that?” Steve asked, eyes opening wide with shock. There shouldn’t have been anything in the interrogation rooms that someone could use to kill themselves with!

“The man had a fuckign knife in his drawers. We hadn’t stripped searched or anything, and since we only just confronted him, we expected to have a bit of protesting _before_ the suicide path . . . “ Sam added, “which _none_ of us saw coming, by the way. Security footage shows him doing himself while no one was in the room.” Sam growled and sounded frustrated, “quite a lot of blood spray.”

“Jesus,” Steve cursed softly, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “Fuckin’ coward didn’t want to go to jail. What about Sean? Is he okay? Did he lawyer up yet?”

“Lawyered up, bawled like a baby, and demand his Senator father be told by his lawyer and not us,” Sam answered. “Guy flipped, Steve, but was a little too late, because Brock had already bled out.”

“So, the D.A. won’t deal with him? The case will be going to trial,” Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, scratching on his beard.

“Depends on what TJ and his brother want, versus what we can get Sean to agree to,” Sam sighed. “Just thought you should hear it from me first, not the television or some insensitive reporter. You recuse yourself right now, Steve. This case is too hot. Don’t wanna be linked the wrong way.”

“I’ll call Fury in the morning,” Steve agreed with a sigh.

Growling instantly, Sam said, “no! Do it now! He’s awake, Steve. If the papers get ahold of this, you and those guys will be dragged through the mud. The defense will use it to twist the case against TJ!” Taking a shaky breath, Sam lowered his voice and said, “you found the kidnappers and victim. Clean break. Take yourself off this case and let it go to someone not emotionally compromised.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, “I’ll call Fury right now then. Thanks, Sam”

“And get some rest,” Sam advised. “See you later when I come down to officially interview that pair. You stick with them until we judge if Brock’s people are going to cause mischief or accept things with quiet dignity.”

Steve agreed again and said his final goodbyes to Sam before hanging up, letting him know that TJ and Bucky would be at the hospital for the next full day. Shaking his head, Steve glanced at Bucky with a fierce frown, “I need to recuse myself . . .”

Watching Steve, tilting his head, Bucky softly asked, “they figured us out almost before we did?”

“Bucky,” Steve lowered his voice, glancing to TJ to make sure he still slept before looking back at Bucky, “Brock killed himself.”

Bucky sat for a long moment without reaction, then shock filled his rapidly paling face and his pale blue eyes widened further than TJ’s normal doe-in-the-headlight look. “What?” he asked for clarification, fingers wrapping in TJ’s blanket.

“He’d brought in a knife, we hadn’t stripped searched him because he hadn’t been under arrest. He killed himself while he was alone in one of the interrogation rooms,” Steve sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Probably knew he was going to jail and decided death was better than life in prison.”

“Shit,” Bucky whispered, eyes shooting to check on TJ before he looked at Steve. Eyes unfocusing momentarily, suddenly Bucky began to sway, passing out. His body fell limp against Steve, pressed to the bed and missing the floor.

“Dammit,” Steve cursed and hit the nurse button on TJ’s bed, supporting Bucky’s weight easily.

Fortunately, the faint was very brief and Bucky began to rouse just as a nurse rushed in. She looked over the trio and softly asked, “how can I help?”

Bucky blinked and pressed into Steve’s side for reassurance as he glanced over at TJ. “Teej okay?” he asked softly, not quite sure how long he’d been out.

“You passed out, Buck, I called a nurse. Just relax for me, okay?” Steve soothed, rubbing up and down Bucky’s back.

Not protesting, Bucky nodded and continued to lean into Steve as the nurse checked him over. She finally murmured, “shock?” looking up at Steve.

“I think so but I just wanted to be sure,” Steve said, looking at the nurse and then down at Bucky, stroking his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

Smiling reassuringly, the nurse answered, “he’ll be okay. Just don’t get up quickly, and have some water,” she turned her attention on Bucky, fussing over him as much as she would TJ.

The older brunet nodded, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder. Softly he asked the large blond, “Brock . . . really? I really heard that right? The guy who hurt my brother so badly can’t do that anymore?” Blinking pale blue eyes, Bucky murmured, “good. The fucker deserves it.”

“Yeah, he deserves it and will rot in the deepest pit of hell for what he did.” Steve dropped a kiss on the top of Bucky’s head and then said, “try and get some sleep? You can use my shoulder? I have to make a call to my boss but then I’ll be done, okay?”

“I’ll call the garage in the morning,” Bucky said and let his eyes close, comfortable in the cop’s presence. “Thanks, Stevie. And . . . sorry you have to recuse, but I really am glad we met. I think,” he smiled softly, “I think we can make it, you and I.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve breathed out, kissed Bucky’s hair again, “just rest, okay? I’ll be here.”

**************

Setting: December 25, 9 AM, Brooklyn, NY.

Steve huddled under his wool coat as he rushed inside the apartment complex, trying not to get the packages wet from the rain that fell from the sky. Shaking excess water from his hair, Steve lifted his hand to knock on the door. He knew TJ had been released just earlier that morning so he hoped he’d given Bucky enough time to get TJ settled.

Within a couple of seconds, the door opened without even a verbal challenge, meaning Bucky had either ignored security totally or had started using the video feed of the front door he had sent to his phone. Smiling widely in welcome, Bucky said, “I told TJ it was you. He took my phone and sent me out to get you.”

“How is he doing?” Steve asked, stepping inside the warm apartment.

Turning to look into the living room from the open hall, Bucky laughed softly. “See for yourself. Teej, my boyfriend the cop is here.” He always reminded TJ that his new boyfriend, even if they had to keep it low key, was a genuine police officer.

The lean teen, still covered in bruises and looking exhausted, sat on the couch and gave Steve a very small smile. “Hey, Steve,” he said softly.

“Teej, you should be lying on the couch, not sitting. Come on, Baby. Steve can sit in your chair so you take the whole couch.” Bucky helped TJ to turn and lay down against the cushions. “Too generous for his own good, isn’t he, Stevie? Here, put your things down on that table by the chair. TJ’s chair is the grey one.” Bucky stroked TJ’s curls and handed him a glass of juice as he spoke, moving efficiently yet gently around his injured brother. A small braided cord hung from his wrist with a key strung on it.

The couch sat between two cushioned chairs with a small Christmas tree situated in the corner right by the door to the kitchen. A television sat across from the couch on an entertainment stand. The coffee table before the couch held a variety of containers with snacks and drinks, some medicine bottles in a locked case, and a classical board game set up and perhaps half-played so far. One chair, the grey lounger, was positioned to face the tree and the dark blue faced the entryway; however, a cushion on the floor across the table from the couch revealed that Bucky had been sitting on the floor while playing with his brother.

TJ didn’t argue as Bucky helped him lie down, a soft hiss breaking past his lips as his body pulsed in agony with pretty much any movement. He gave his brother a grateful smile and then smiled at Steve again.

Steve walked over to the grey chair and pulled out two presents: one a brightly colored bag with tissue paper stuffed inside to hide the gift from the peeking eye, and the other was a small box with blue and silver wrapping. “Hey, I won’t stay long, I know your guy’s family is coming for Christmas.”

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “don’t need to rush, Steve. A huge storm grounded the planes. They won’t make it for a couple of days,” Bucky met Steve’s eyes. “But if you don’t mind, we’d like to feed you dinner and stuff . . . unless you have other plans?”

Blinking, Steve slowly smiled and shook his head, “no, it’s just me. Was going to go back to my place with Chinese food but staying here sounds so much better. Thank you.”

“I don’t know,” TJ commented with a small smile, his still cracked lips, though they looked a lot better than when TJ had first come home, pulling into a crooked smile, “if we’re better than Chinese food.”

“If you do Chinese for Christmas traditionally, we can try it, right, Teej?” Bucky offered, revealing that he was just as accommodating to anyone he felt close to, not just to TJ. Bucky was a giver, a carer, and wanted everyone comfortable and content. Sean had certainly mislabeled him as _controlling_.

“Well, I won’t be able to help you cook this year, sorry . . .” TJ looked guilty, “can’t stand for very long . . .”

“So,” Bucky added, as if finishing TJ’s thought, “we’re ordering for Christmas if I can’t manage it from my own recipes. You name it, me and Teej will try it.” Bucky smiled and reached over to stroke his brother’s curls again.

“You guys sure? I mean, I don’t want to take over your guy’s Christmas,” Steve protested softly, looking between the two brothers.

Chuckling, far calmer and happier than Steve had seen him before TJ rescued himself, Bucky reached over to touch Steve’s knee. “TJ, tell him what we normally do for Christmas, baby.” The contrast was very great, like a parent who’d been worried about a missing child, rather than what some people might think brothers would feel.

Glancing over at Steve, TJ licked his lips and then said, “usually we just have dinner, normally we cook together but . . . this year we won’t . . . then we clean up, exchange presents and watch a movie. Nothing all that special really, special to us but . . .” TJ shrugged, making himself wince at the movement.

“Hey, Teej, maybe Steve can help me get you to the kitchen and set into a very comfy pillowed chair there? Then you can direct us as we cook? Would that be good?” Bucky offered the idea spontaneously, using the key on his wrist band to open the medicine locker and pull out TJ’s next dose of regulated pain medicine, which he gave to his brother, locking the rest up diligently.

“Sure, that might work,” TJ agreed softly, taking the dose of medicine with the juice Bucky had given him. He tried to sit up by himself but only got about halfway before collapsing to the couch again as his abused muscles screamed in protest.

Stroking TJ’s curls, Bucky asked, “need the bathroom, baby? Or something else first?” He seemed to have no embarrassment about offering to help with his little brother’s bodily functions while TJ healed. He’d done it before, after all.

Flushing, TJ nodded, turning his face away in shame. “Yeah . . .”

Watching his brother, Bucky softly said, “Steve’s a cop, remember? He’s seen far worse than a man who needs a few days of help, okay, baby? I’ll take you to the bathroom and help you out while Steve gets a chair all comfy for you in the kitchen. He can’t sit for long with what those beasts did to him, Stevie, but TJ can pretty much do most things on his own. The pain from all the beatings is the most debilitating, right, Teej?” Bucky stroked his brother’s hair again, smiling lovingly. “Makes walking or moving his back hard, is all.”

Swallowing thickly, TJ nodded and, with his brother’s help, was able to stand and make his way to the bathroom.

While the brothers were busy, Steve pulled one of the dining room chairs into the kitchen and started piling on pillows and anything else he could think of to make it more comfortable for the injured teen.

As they finished, Bucky holding his brother for support while he washed up, the elder brother asked the younger, “is this okay, Teej? I can tell Steve nevermind if you’d rather. He’ll understand.” Bucky dried TJ’s hands for him.

“No,” TJ shook his head, leaning heavily against Bucky, “it’s okay. You deserve this, Bucky. You deserve to be happy.”

Bucky leaned his temple against TJ’s and whispered, “so do you. You want, I can look into online classes for the next semester for you, or tutoring.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t . . . I can’t - -” TJ blew out a soft breath and dropped his head, “I don’t know if I can . . . go back?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “want to take off a semester to get your head back together, baby?” The older brother slipped a supporting arm around the younger, keeping the door shut for TJ’s privacy during this conversation. “Think about it, see if you even want the degree or if you wanna switch schools or do classes from home or whatever? Go over your options for a few months?”

“The next semester doesn’t start until May, so I have some time? Luckily . . . luckily I hadn’t enrolled in the winter semester . . .” TJ agreed with a small nod, “I just . . . I’m scared _all_ the time. Brock had a lot of friends, Bucky . . . and Sean’s family is very powerful.”

Nodding, Bucky continued to hold TJ close. "I know, baby. That's why I offered. You know I don't mind you staying home, maybe slowing down a bit and taking some classes online. Anything’s possible. We can look into actual hands-on classes at another time or a different way. But, for now, let's take it slow." Bucky lifted his temple from TJ's. "You know, I love you, Teej. Right? Steve compared us to twins because we can sense the other's pain. He kept reassuring me that you were alive because I could still feel you." Bucky stroked a hand down TJ's cheek with gentle fingers.

Closing his eyes, a tear running down his still bruised cheek, TJ nodded and said, “I just . . . I wanted to see you one more time? Tell you . . .” TJ opened his eyes and met Bucky’s matching pale blue, “tell you how sorry I am for everything I’ve put you through.”

Nodding, finally allowing his brother to apologize for things since Bucky knew TJ would live, the older brother said, “thanks, and I forgive you anything I might have been upset about. But, in the end, even with the pain and stuff? You’re worth it to me, Teej. Hope I’m worth it to you, too.” Bucky offered TJ a smile.

Slowly, TJ managed to wrap his arms around Bucky and give him as tight a hug as he could manage. “You’re worth it to me, Bucky. I love you.”

Bucky dropped a kiss to his brother’s curls and said, “how about that nice padded chair and a kitchen helper as your hands and feet? Let’s go show Steve a Christmas to remember, Barnes style.”

TJ nodded, letting Bucky help him into the kitchen and onto the very padded, comfortable chair that Steve had set up. The teen looked up at Steve and offered him another smile, “thanks, Steve, this is good.” He still felt pain throbbing through his body but with the medicine it was manageable. 

“No problem, TJ, I like to help,” Steve smiled at TJ and then at Bucky. “So, what’s the classic Barnes’ Christmas dinner?”

“We do something random from the recipe box, actually. TJ always picks a recipe and then we attempt it. If it’s not edible when we’re done, we order pizza.” Bucky grinned, got the recipe box, and brought it over to TJ. “The box, Teej,” he presented the dark green metal card box.

Smiling, TJ carefully opened the tin and then let his fingers rove over the cards in the tin before finally pulling one out. He read it and then laughed, “looks like we might be ordering pizza . . . pulled a ham and cheese souffle.”

“Souffle? Shit, that stuff is hard!” Bucky laughed. “Okay, read off the ingredients, Teej. Stevie will run them down. I’ll get the pots and pans and bowls and stuff. Direct away!” Bucky smiled wide, looking happy despite knowing in advance that they’d fail. He wasn’t much of a cook and TJ wasn’t able to help much, but pizza wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, they even had enough ingredients to make French bread pizza if TJ and Steve agreed to making two meals.

After nearly two hours of cooking, the souffles ending up completely deflated and burnt, Steve finally pulled out the pepperoni French bread pizza from the oven. “Now,” Steve laughed, setting the hot pan on top of the stove, “ _this_ smells good!”

“Hey, TJ, our talents aren’t totally off! We can still make my birthday pizza,” Bucky laughed, winking at his brother. He grinned at Steve, not bothered in the least that they’d failed at the fancy dish. The idea behind trying those random recipes was the togetherness, the fun and camaraderie without video games or texting or sitting, uncommunicative, in front of a television. It was the _family_ idea that made it Christmas.

“Good to know we still have that, at least,” TJ laughed and tried to stand up, using the counter next to him to help him to his feet. “Moving to the dining table?”

Grinning, Bucky said, “we can set up the cushy chair there or all head back for the living room and pretend it’s a treehouse?” The brunet began gathering plates and cups and some juice. He didn’t grab any soda, and there was not even a beer in the house; Bucky had given up alcohol after TJ’s suicide attempt.

“Yeah, maybe the living room might not be a bad idea? My body . . . it’s really sore from sitting up that long,” TJ replied, looking a little sheepish.

Nodding, Bucky turned to Steve and started handing off everything to him, “since you’re being family tonight and not a guest, you carry stuff. I’ll settle Teej then come back for the pizza, okay?” He slid an empty arm carefully around his brother.

“Of course,” Steve smiled, accepting the work readily. As Bucky helped TJ back into the living room, Steve cut the French bread pizza into several different pieces and carried out the tray of pizza first and then carried out the plates and other needed items for their meal. The more Steve hung around the brothers, the more he could understand why TJ being an hour and a half late would be a big concern for Bucky: they were so close. He waited until TJ was settled before dropping a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and then lips. “Thanks for letting me stay with you guys today.”

Bucky seemed to light up in joy and nodded. “We love having people over, believe it or not. Just right now, TJ wants to be comfortable with the people we bring over. So, I’m just glad you’re willing to be under a bit of scrutiny once in awhile.” He looked to TJ and opened the lockbox for another med, this one for the swelling and infection from the multiple rapes. Locking the rest of the meds up, Bucky offered TJ his med, not even needing a watch to be able to give TJ his doses on time. “I can only hope TJ likes you,” Bucky smiled at his brother gently.

Taking the medicine with a sip of juice, TJ said, “eh,” he looked at Steve, “you’re alright.” There was a teasing tone to his voice, his pale eyes sparkling with laughter.

Laughing, Steve grinned, “well, I hope one day I can get to the _cool_ range.”

Bucky turned to Steve and leaned over, dropping a kiss to his lips. “Cool is for kids. What you really want is to make _brother_ someday, Stevie.” He winked and settled down to enjoy the rest of Christmas with his brother and his boyfriend. The past couple of weeks had been some of the most emotional of his life, almost as bad as during TJ’s low point, but Bucky was very pleased by the outcome. He got his baby brother back, relatively in one piece, and got a very hot blond bombshell in the bargain. Who said there weren’t Christmas miracles?


End file.
